


Have You Ever Seen "The Village"?

by WithACherryOnTop



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame Fix-it?, Dislocated bones, Feral Peter, Fluff, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt Peter, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), Minor Original Character(s), Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker Whump, Poison, Whump, bullet removal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2020-09-02 13:00:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20276320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithACherryOnTop/pseuds/WithACherryOnTop
Summary: On a seemingly harmless mission in the Swiss Alps, Tony and Peter find themselves dealing with more than they can handle. When Peter takes a life threatening hit, Tony will do whatever it takes to keep from losing the boy again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am a virgin fiction writer. Chapter lengths may be inconsistent. POV's, if there even are any, may be way off. Present and past tense may get dicey. I don't know. I've never written for the pleasure of other people or myself, but I wanted to give it a shot.

“Okay, to be fair, I was up all night working on my Periodic Table model, which is a disappointment, but that’s not really important, so it’s not a complete surprise that he was able to get the drop on me. Anyways, he’s got me pinned up against the hot dog stand. . .”

Tony kept his face expressionless as he listened to Peter ramble on and on about his encounter with some fat, drunk New Yorker who had been robbing some poor vendor, but the kid’s wide eyes and braindump speech pattern nearly had Tony’s facade broken.

It was quite a challenge to faze the man whose calculating gaze always hid behind such overpriced sunglasses. The great Tony Stark could keep a stone face in the most odd and difficult situations, leaving everyone in a constant bewilderment as to what the genius was thinking. Nevertheless, Tony Stark was no blank slate; he could charm the cameras and media with a simple smirk, and he was always quick with a quip in response to the most negligent reporters and menacing foes.

Peter was one of the rare few who could crack a genuine smile from Tony, whether he was delivering one of his patrol monologues, complaining about Midtown’s coursework, or, unbeknownst to him, whenever Tony checked in on him through the Baby Monitor Protocol and would catch him singing anything from ACDC’s “Live Wire” to Rihanna’s “Umbrella”.

“. . . and then, there was mustard all over my lenses. . .”

Tony would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the constant babble. Ever since Professor Hulk snapped his fingers and brought everyone back from wherever Thanos’s Snap had taken them, every word that came from Peter’s mouth seemed like a treasure.

It was only after Tony had returned from his hiatus in space, recovered from Thanos’s stab wound, and discovered that Thanos had destroyed the Infinity Stones that he felt the full impact of his loss. There had been anger, denial, depression, and finally, apathy. A life without Peter seemed like a life unworthy of living.

After his wife Pepper anxiously announced her pregnancy, Tony realized that he had to at least pretend to move on, just like everybody else. He reasoned with himself that it was what Peter would have wanted, and low and behold, Tony became a pretty decent father to Morgan H. Stark. It if hadn’t of been for Pepper and Morgan, Tony may just have succumbed to unfeeling.

In the final battle against Thanos, when Tony first saw those brown eyes, and first embraced that Iron-Spider clad frame, the feeling was indescribable! He finally had his kid back! Peter finally had his life back! The moment Tony discovered the spiderling’s onesie hanging in the rafters of his tiny room, he knew that the kid was destined for triumph. Tony always believed the boy had so much intelligence and compassion to give to the world, and now Peter was back to prove him right!

That’s why Tony was so prepared to sacrifice himself in order to ensure that Peter’s gifts could grace the world, but Peter surprised him again. With the stolen stones encased in his own suit’s gauntlet, Tony had braced himself to snap away Thanos and his army, but before he could muster up enough strength to do so, he had felt a strong grip on his left hand.

A glance to his side showed him Peter, hanging on for dear life, his eyes pinched shut, mouth gaping in an agonized scream, with red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple streams of light darting across his body. Then, the Captain grabbed Peter’s other hand, and Thor grabbed Cap, and Wanda grabbed Thor, and so on and so forth until eventually, the power of the stones was bearable. Shuri and the Wakandan Warriors kept the enraged Titan from breaking through the line. After Tony and Peter’s scorched skin knitted back together, it was then that Tony snapped his fingers, the efforts of every Avenger saving the universe.

In all honesty, prior to the time heist, Tony didn’t believe that he would make it through the whole ordeal, and in a way, Tony owed Peter his life. It was in that moment, as the six stones coursed through both of their bodies, Tony knew that he would lay down on a wire for the boy that he saw as his own son.

“. . . and the guy was so wasted! He was trying to shove a hot dog bun up my. . .”

Would Tony ever tell Peter this himself?

Of course not.

However, with the comfort and ease that Peter confided in Tony with about his Spider-Man problems, relationship problems, school problems, whatever problems, it seemed that Peter already knew.

“And then, after I finally had him webbed up, there was relish everywhere! You should have seen it Mr. Stark,” Peter finished with a toothy grin.

“Yeah, I bet it was a sight,” Tony answered as nonchalantly as he possibly could, trying to keep his “cool guy” vibe. Peter just continued to smile.

Peter knew all about his mentor’s “cool guy” vibe, and it never bothered him whenever Tony appeared to show it. At first, the habit had made Peter worried that the great Tony Stark was disinterested in him, or only wanted him around for his help with the Avengers. However, all of that changed on Titan.

In the heat of the battle at the Compound, Peter just told Tony that he “must of passed out” when the Decimation occured, but he remembered every terrifying moment. Tony could only provide empty promises and failed reasurances as Peter fell in his arms, and the Peter-tingle warned him of his unstoppable disappearance. As Peter gave his final apology for not being everything Mr. Stark needed him to be, he also saw Tony’s pained grimace through the blurry tears. That was the last image Peter had of Titan, and upon his awakening to Doctor Strange, the image that played over and over in his head until they were reunited.

As Tony proved that “they were there” and hugged him tight while the battle raged on, Peter realized that the man could only ever have feelings of love and adoration towards him. He was more than a pawn needed to bring Captain America back from Berlin, he was Tony’s kid.

In comfortable silence, the two climbed up the set of stairs, Peter stepping two at a time. Said staircase led to Nick Fury’s office at the new Avengers Compound. The facility was an exact replica of its predecessor, all the way from the location to Vision’s unoccupied room. An effort to forget all of the damage that Thanos had done to the heros, both physically and emotionally.

Peter raised his arm to knock on the director’s closed door, but before he could, Tony just strolled right in.

“Alright Fury, what harrowing quest have ye for the king and his young squire?” Tony asked with that signature smirk.

Peter couldn’t conceal a chuckle at the remark, but Fury didn’t even lift his gaze from the mountain of paperwork scattered across his desk. Peter knew it wasn’t polite to snoop, but he couldn’t resist sneaking a glance at a few words: “Exterminate”, “Classified”, “Mafia”, to name a few. Peter thought of how incredible it would be to meet a member of the Mafia, and wondered just how jealous Ned would be once he found out. He snapped out of his daydream as Fury began speaking.

“Remind me again, Stark, why the Council seems to see it best that I deal with the two of you on a regular basis.” Fury said as he rubbed his temples.

“Gee, I don’t know, maybe because we have the greatest track record with the least amount of whoopsies.” Tony answered as he grabbed himself and Peter a seat. The statement wasn’t even a boast, but a fact.

Once everyone’s lives began to return to a sense of normalcy, so did the world’s constant chaos. Crime, violence, and vile acts were committed each day, and once again, the world needed saving.

Fury worked with the World Council to handle these cases, and many times, an Avenger was needed. When the Council first wanted the help of Spider-Man, Tony had demanded that he tag-along to make sure that the teenager could handle the operation himself, which translates to “Tony wants to make sure that Peter stays safe.” Ever since the mission’s success, whenever Spider-Man was needed, Iron Man was needed there too, and whenever Iron Man was needed, Spider-Man was needed there too.

Over the past several months, the two Avengers were spotted together all over the country. New York was where many of their missions were stationed; this was due to the fact that Tony didn’t want Peter missing too much school. However, pictures surfaced of the two in Washington D.C., where they prevented an assassination at the Pentagon, in St. Louis, where they thwarted a terrorist attack at the museum at the Gateway Arch, and San Francisco, where they defused a bomb set to blow apart the Golden Gate Bridge.

They made a great team, and even Fury could see that.

“Right,” Fury said slowly. “We’ve got a small situation we need taken care of in Hallstatt, Switzerland.”

Peter’s eyes lit up, but Tony was quick to disagree. “Whoa whoa whoa! I don’t babysit abroad. And the kid’s got schooling to do.”

“During Summer. Of course,” Fury sighed. “Stark, I think I’ll just ignore you for the next two and a half minutes.”

“Mr. Stark, I don’t need babysitting!” Peter cried indignantly.

Tony began his retort, “Says the guy who nearly had a hot dog bun shoved up his-”

“Gentlemen! As much as I would_ love_ to hear my least favorite employees scream at each other, I’ve got to get important word to the Council about their most favorite Avengers getting their asses on a plane to the Alps. So do me a favor, and shut the hell up!” Fury ordered as he rose from his chair.

While Tony was biting back a remark against being called an “employee”, Peter at least tried to look sheepish as he folded his hands together and placed them in his lap, head down, but his legs were still bouncing from the sheer excitement of traveling to Europe!

Fury sat back down and began his lecture, “Now, it’s a tiny village that we have been in contact with since S.H.I.E.L.D was first founded. The mountains surrounding the village are rich in uranium, so naturally, back when Cap was punching Nazis, Hydra was busy implanting nuclear reactors and requiring Hallstatt to make them nuclear weapons. And you can imagine they weren’t very nice about it. After the war, and after Hydra was quote ‘defeated’ end quote, the villagers packed it in on weapons-making. A few years later, a couple of early S.H.I.E.L.D agents went to the village to learn about the mechanics and so on and so forth. The townspeople assured the agents that they would never use their reactors for more than industrial or medicinal use for their own people. We haven’t heard from them since.” Fury paused, making sure he had the two’s attentions.

“Loved the history lesson Nick! What’s the point?” Tony asked.

“Over the past several months, HQ in Berlin has picked up serious levels of gamma radiation within the mountains surrounding Hallstatt. We want you two to find out why.” Fury concluded.

Tony waved his hand and added disdainfully, “Not interested. To me that sounds more like a job for Professor Hulk.”

“The village practically lives in the dark. If they saw the Green Giant strolling into town they would most definitely begin remaking nuclear weapons.The gamma radiation is too close to the Hulk’s genetic make-up, and we don’t want to risk a Hulk Smash at a village that, for nearly seventy years, has offered nothing to the world but peace. Now, I understand that Parker has a bit of radioactivity in him as well, but I fail to see how a little bit of exposure would turn him into a raging tarantula. Plus, besides Dr. Banner, you and Parker have some of the biggest brains on the team,” Fury countered.

At the compliment, Peter couldn’t help but light up. “I would love to go Mr. Fury. Plus, I’ve had X-rays before, and the radiation has never bothered the spider bite at all. And Mr. Stark, Switzerland is awesome! They make pocket knives, have good cheese, have really good chocolate, and-”

Fury cut Peter off, “Due to our limited contact with the village, I advise that you bring the iron man suit and the webshooters, but use them only as a last resort. I have already sent you both a file with a more detailed debriefing. You will leave tomorrow morning at 0900. You won’t be in the Quinjet, you will be taking a private plane. Dismissed,” Fury swiveled his chair around, his back facing the heroes.

At this Tony grew bitter, “Now hold on just a damn second! We’re not going to Switzerland! And Peter especially is not going to Switzerland! Have you even contacted his aun-”

“Already done Stark,” Fury started without turning around. “After I explained the mission she said that it was alright as long as you tagged along. She even said it might be a fun little vacation for the two of you. Dismissed,” Fury’s patience was thinning.

“Mr. Stark, really, it’s fine. It’s just another mission, but a little bit farther,” Peter began. “I promise I won’t be a bother, and I’ve really been considering nuclear engineering as a potential college major.”

“That’s a lie,” Tony eyeballed Peter.

Peter nodded, “It is a lie, but nuclear reactor stuff is still really cool! Please can we go?” Tony always struggled to turn the kid down, especially after the Snap. Maybe May was right, and the two could actually enjoy themselves to a little Lampoon’s European Vacation after it was all said and done. Tony softened, “Whatever. I still think it’s a waste of time.”

Peter pumped his fists, “Yes! Thank you so much Mr. Fury, we’ll do the mission!”

Still hidden from the two heroes, Fury rolled his eyes, “‘No’ was never an option. Now, _dismissed_.”

Peter hurried out of the room while Tony sauntered slowly behind him. The kid decided to skip the staircase altogether, opting to leap instead, still on his potential-Summer-vacation high, and raced towards the exit.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning Mr. Stark!” Peter yelled as he threw a hand behind his back to offer the man a shaky wave goodbye.

“Hey kid! Don’t you need a ride!?” Tony shouted after him, but Peter was already out the door. Tony thought the kid would come back in, realizing he would need a way to get back to Queens, but then he saw that the kid already had his web shooters on and was swinging his way through the trees and out of sight.

“To Hell with it,” Tony spoke aloud, “F.R.I.D.A.Y, go ahead and tell Pepper that I need a couple of suitcases from the garage.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if there's not a lot of Peter in this chapter. This kind of had to be the "Avengers: Endgame Fix-it" part/explaining the mission in the Alps. I plan to update within the next week. Don't worry, the whump's coming. 
> 
> Also, just a late disclaimer for this chapter and several upcoming, I'M NOT A NUCLEAR ENGINEER MAJOR EITHER! I've done some research and am doing my best, but if something's wrong, please, just pretend, because that's what fiction is.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! First off, I'm officially a fanfiction writer because I didn't post when I said I would.  
Second, I made a few minor adjustments to Chapter 1, and there might be a little more Peter in it.  
Third, we may see some OOC blooming (which may subconsciously be the author projecting)!  
Fourth, I've got an editor now. She isn't any good. She just tells me to right stuff. :P No actually, she's really helpful.  
-WithACherryOnTop
> 
> Hey Squid, are you finished with those [chapters]? -Just_the_Editor

* * *

It was 8:45 when Tony stepped out of his charcoal Audi E-Tron 2023 GT. Regardless of his dislike towards the mission, Iron Man knew better than to show up two hours late like he used to do in his days prior to Afghanistan.

The only upside to the location of the mission was that it appeared that this would have been a simmering day in the States. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, and the sun was shining in all its glory. Even at such an early hour, heat waves could still be seen coming off of the sweltering tarmac.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here! I thought I was gonna melt!” As Tony suspected, Peter was already standing at the base of the staircase leading into the plane; he’d most likely been there for over an hour.

“Jesus kid. Please tell me you had Happy drop you off or something?” Tony already knew the answer.

“Nah, I texted him last night and told him not to worry. He seemed pretty happy about it too. Something about his ‘Forehead of Security’ job running early this morning.” Peter coasted over to help Tony with his several bags of luggage.

“Just stuck to swinging through the trees, I guess?” Tony thought that that seemed pretty difficult considering the webslinger was used to towering skyscrapers and light poles. As he handed Peter his Tommy Hilfiger bag, he didn’t miss the miniscule wince from Peter as he raised his left arm.

“Yeah. It’s a lot tougher than I thought it was gonna be. I even wiped out once or twice, but it’s no big deal.” Peter played off his barely-there bruised shoulder by adding another bag into his grip.

“Wiped out? Was that yesterday, or this morning? If things head South, I wanna make sure you’re on your ‘A game’.” Tony certainly didn’t want Peter making any hidden injuries worse on their seemingly harmless mission.

“Really Mr. Stark, I’m fine. It’ll probably be completely one hundred percent by the time we get there. Actually, once we get back, I was hoping to use the lab to reconfigure my web fluid. The web’s strong enough when it comes to flat surfaces like windows and buildings, and even when sticking to metal objects like guns and stuff, but I think when it comes in contact with more organic things, like tree bark, it’s lacking.” Peter started stuffing some of the luggage in the lower compartments of the plane while Tony grabbed his last suitcase from the car trunk.

“Will you need webs like that very much in New York? Don’t get me wrong, we can adjust your formula, but maybe there are some more relevant upgrades you want for the time being.” Tony wondered absentmindedly as he started trying to remember what Peter had said about the chemical make-up of his web fluid.

“I definitely want stronger webs now! What if something big goes down in Central Park one day?! Spider-Man would be completely grounded, and then who would save the city?” It was clear that Peter was extremely passionate about his web fluid idea.

Tony smirked, “Don’t worry kid, Iron Man would take care of it. Maybe he’d even give you a lift.”

“Shut up! There’s no way you’d make it in time! You’d probably be living it up in your fancy hot tub, drinking some overpriced Martini or whatever.” Peter laughed as he gave Tony a playful punch. Tony returned one of his own, mindful of Peter’s sore shoulder, even though a punch from the “man in the can” probably wouldn’t even bother him.

Still smiling, Peter shut the luggage compartment as Tony eyed a suitcase standing upright at the staircase. “I didn’t see any other luggage tucked in with mine,” Tony paused, realizing the single suitcase was all the Peter had. “It’s not any trouble, but I hadn’t planned on buying too much stuff in Switzerland, especially teenager clothes. This may take longer than expected. Have you got absolutely everything you need?”

“Yeah yeah yeah. I’m totally good Mr. Stark.” Peter knew his “packed for vacation” was much different than someone like Tony’s, but he had everything he needed, everything he had for that matter, from additional web shooter cartridges to snacks for the trip.

“All right, suit yourself.” The two headed into the plane, Peter with his lone, blue suitcase with the BFP emblazoned on it, and Tony with his own thousand-dollar carry-on.

————————————————

“Alright. Tell me everything about the mission. Now. Boom! Go!” Tony commanded as he laid sprawled out on one of the jets many large seats.

“Geez Mis’r ‘tark! ‘idn’t you ‘ead the file?” Peter muffled with a mouthful of Cheddar Cheese Combos. It hadn’t been thirty minutes and he had already broken out his suitcase full of vacation essentials and snacks.

“Oh I read the file, I just wanted to make sure that you did. I’m still like your mentor. I wanna make sure that you are absorbing every concept of an Avenger’s mission. That includes the_ dreaded paperwork_.” Tony made his voice old and gravely as he shook his fingers at Peter, much like Chancellor Palpatine when he uses his lightning against Mace Windu.

The horrible impersonation caused Peter to belt out, his whole body rolling with the action, and Tony got a very unpleasant view of the wad that was the Cheddar Cheese Combos.

“Oh my God, you sound like the creepy old “Always watching” lady from _Monsters Inc._!” The two continued to laugh together, Tony periodically telling Peter to close his mouth.

“Okay okay okay. I’ll tell you just because I think the mission is really cool.” Peter straightened up and slapped his hands together as he started his make-shift presentation. “So, what we already know is: Hallstatt, Switzerland, Hydra was there in the 1940’s, the villagers were forced to make nuclear weapons, yada yada yada, they don’t have much connectivity with the rest of the world, there was a recent spike in gamma radiation there. What’s new is that the village is located at the base of Mt. Mort Noir, which is French for “Black Death”. While it’s located at the mountain’s base, it’s still nearly twelve thousand feet above sea level. All of the nuclear reactors are going to be within the mountain itself. The old S.H.I.E.L.D agents that visited after World War II said that the mountain has some caves where the mining takes place, along with where the nuclear reactors are stored. However, these caves are located a couple hundred feet higher on the mountain.” Peter paused his relay of information as he looked at Tony to see if he had caught any mistakes. “Are we doin’ good so far?” Peter couldn’t help but ask.

“It sounds great kid, keep going.” Tony answered honestly.

Peter couldn’t help but beam at the praise, and even he himself was impressed that he had remembered so much from the file. “The village is mining uranium, which I guess is pretty common in the Alps, and they’re using it to power their nuclear reactors. The nuclear energy created is caused by the atoms of the uranium breaking apart in a process called fission. The breaking of the atoms creates neutrons and heat. Then, there’s some more processing involved that I can’t really remember, and that’s how the village is provided with energy. Oh! But I do remember that back when Hydra had them making weapons, some by-products of this nuclear fuel cycle include plutonium, which is what they used to make nuclear weapons.” Peter finished.

“I give that about a four and a half star review. But seriously though,” Tony plastered a genuine smile, “that was pretty damn spot-on.”

“Thanks Mr. Stark. But there is one thing that is kind of confusing about the whole thing.” Peter looked away, deep in thought. He started, uncertain, “I know I’m not a nuclear genius or anything, but something about the gamma radiation that they’re reporting is off. Like uranium-”

“Kid, you’re totally right, and it was something I was gonna quiz you on.” At this Peter’s confidence quickly returned as Tony continued. “With the process of breaking down uranium, there is not much gamma radiation produced. At least not enough to be detected at dangerous levels. And even if they were using recycled plutonium to create weapons, that wouldn’t be enough gamma.”

“So what do you think that means?” Peter asked.

“I think that means did you pack your suit along with the webshooters?”

Peter looked apologetic, “Well, no. Mr. Fury said to just bring the webshooters as a precaution.” Now Peter felt stupid. He knew that the uranium wouldn’t create enough gamma radiation to be seen as a threat, meaning that something else was going on, yet he didn’t pack the suit. He just thought that he was overthinking everything and that everything would be as Fury had said. “You probably think I’m an idiot.”

“Nah kid, not at all. It was just a mistake. But, it goes to show, always trust your instincts. It’s better to be safe than sorry. I really think you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for. I contacted Fury about it after I got the file, and he’s been trying to communicate with Hallstatt to get some information.” Tony could tell that Peter still wasn’t satisfied.

“You’re just so good at this! Contacting Mr. Fury? I wouldn’t have thought to do that. This is probably child’s play for you and I don’t even have a suit!” Peter stood up and began pacing, running a hand through his hair. What was up? Any and all other missions, he was fine. Why was some stupid mission in a rinky dink town in Switzerland somehow throwing him off?

Tony raised his hands to placate Peter, “Calm down, bud. Really, you’re fine. I’ve got the nanotech suit, and if it gets nitty-gritty, the nanotech can bind to you and your webshooters and you’ll be protected and still able to fight.”

At this, Peter relaxed minutely. “I can’t take that Mr. Stark, it’s yours. What if you need it? What if we’re right and this is something bigger? I mean, don’t you think we’re going in a little blin-”

An alert cut Peter off. “That’s Fury. F.R.I.D.A.Y, put ‘em through for me dear.”

Tony pointed his tablet towards one of the wood-finished walls, and a hologram of the director appeared. He was still sitting in his chair, as if he had never left.

“Stark. One of Hallstatt’s officials got back to me. His name is Maxime Roth. Says he’s kind of ‘in charge’, so to speak. I asked him about the gamma radiation issue and he told me that a few months ago, the miners came across some cobaltite. Apparently, in addition to the uranium, they are using the cobaltite to continue producing resources and medicine for the village and any of their importers.” Fury had one of his typical pauses, and then continued, slow as always. “Now, I don’t know the science behind it, but like I said before, that’s your job. I told Roth you were coming, and he said that the village has a landing zone which you are welcome to use, and there’s even a place for you both to stay.”

Peter, wanting to do something right, started up to the cockpit to switch the coordinates from those of Zurich to Hallstatt.

Fury added as if he hadn’t noticed Peter, “I’ve already entered the coordinates.”

Peter hung his head. Gosh, couldn’t he do something of value, or was everyone else always ten steps ahead of him. In order to make Tony believe that he wasn’t going to the cockpit to switch the coordinates, he grabbed his suitcase from near the exit door and brought it back to where he had been sitting. Eating was one thing he could do right.

“Frankly, I don’t think that there is much going on here, but I want you to finish the job to appease HQ. Is that understood?” Fury suddenly had a much more authoritative voice that even a moody teenager couldn’t ignore.

“Understood,” they both answered in sync. The hologram disappeared.

Tony tried to make it seem like he hadn’t noticed Peter’s failed attempt to help, and instead tried to make the atmosphere light again. He stood up and feigned a stretch, walking over to inspect Peter’s snack stache. There was a bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos, a couple of bottles of Pepsi and a ton of Oatmeal Creme Pies and ironically, Swiss Rolls. “Jeez kid, do you eat this Hostess crap all the time?”

“Oh my God, I can’t even eat right!” Peter was exasperated. “No Mr. Stark, I don’t eat this crap all the time, but I did whenever Ben took me on trips! Also, it’s Little Debbie, not Hostess! Sorry my uncle’s taste wasn’t to your standards! Now, please just leave me alone!” Peter jumped up, snacks forgotten, and headed as far back in the cabin as he could. He parked himself in a seat with his back to Tony.

_Dammit_, Peter thought. Why had he just yelled at Tony? Everything was his own fault, and Tony had even said that he hadn’t made that big of a mistake. Gosh, he wished he could just relax a bit more. Maybe he was more tight-strung because of his Peter-tingle acting up, or something. Everything was just piling up. Falling from the trees on his way to the compound, having inadequate web fluid, not being able to remember all of the nuclear processing, not being more mindful about the gamma radiation, not bringing his suit, Mr. Stark having to give him nanotech from his own suit, everyone always being smarter at him with the hero stuff, Uncle Ben. It was obvious that the best course of action was to apologize to Mr. Stark, just relax about it, and everything would be fine. Therefore, he slouched in his seat, brought his hoodie up, closed his eyes, and plugged in his headphones.

_ Dammit_, Tony thought. He hadn’t meant for Peter to get even more riled up. Plus, anything involving his uncle was usually very private to Peter and never a subject Tony wanted to mess around with. Tony went back to his original seat, knowing not to push Peter, but he couldn’t help shooting frequent glances at him. It broke his heart to see the kid hoist his hoodie up and bury himself like that. So much for a fun little vacation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, but the whump is coming, I promise!  
I didn't realize how much plot actually matters in whump stories. When I would read, I was always like "skippy skippy, where's the whump," but the plot actually matters.  
Also, I'm a really good English kid when it comes to school and I just really like literature. Therefore, I'm really particular in my writing because it's how I've always been. Sometimes I don't think that my story flows right because I force myself to lead into a quote, or add stuff after a quote because I've been taught that you just can't have quotes floating around. In my story, there's never any back and forth dialogue, just a ton of "said"s and "ask"s, or "Tony eyeballed Peter"s. Hopefully I can overcome this and maybe just throw some dialogue out there. Who knows?!  
Now, I hope to post a lot sooner than last time. As is spoken in Michael Jackson's music video Thriller, "See you next Wednesday."  
Or maybe sooner. Who knows, I'm inspired right now. -WithACherryOnTop
> 
> Happy Spook! -Just_the_Editor
> 
> Yeah, she doesn't say much. -WithACherryOnTop


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, MANDELA EFFECT! I recently read a story where the author's notes went on a rant about how improbable it would be for Peter to swing from New York City to the Compound (Also, I really love this author and his/her and always have their dashboard up on my phone). In my head I was all like, "Uhg! How dare you! If you were actually paying attention during Endgame, you would have seen the New York skyline during the final battle. It's not improbable! Difficult? Yes. Improbable? No. Whenever I play Spider-Man on PS4, whenever Peter zips to point, he is so ridiculously fast! MCU Peter could totally do that!" So I watched Endgame getting ready to prove my point.  
"Clearly I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong." -Tony Stark (Captain America: Civil War)  
I could of sworn I saw New York from the Compound in Endgame, but it wasn't there. So, will I fix this in the story? No. We're just gonna pretend. :)
> 
> Also, I am really starting to like my writing better! This is my favorite chapter yet!
> 
> Enjoy!  
-WithACherryOnTop

Peter awoke with a gasp to the all too familiar feeling of a buzz at the base of his spine; then, the buzz raced up his back to the base of his skull. His sixth sense was warning him. But how could there be any threat on one of Fury’s private planes? Had someone boarded the plane before either of them? Before Peter could properly survey the cabin for any stowaways, his spidey-sense screamed _STICK_, and he stuck himself to the padded armrests of his seat. In an instant, the aircraft began to jostle, sending a suitcase, Oatmeal Creme Pie plastic wrappers, and a still-sleeping billionaire bouncing about the cabin.

_Oh. Turbulence._

“Dammit! What the hell?!” Tony landed in a heap on the ground, clearly disoriented after having been awakened from his nap. He tried to pull himself off the floor, but was instantly knocked sideways and onto his back. “Are we under attack?!” The plane gave one last lurch, and then, as quickly as it had begun, the shaking ceased.

Peter quickly unstuck himself from his seat, rushing to help Tony from the floor. “Mr. Stark, are you alright?” Peter extended his left hand to help the man up, grateful to realize that his shoulder was no longer aching.

Upon realizing that his mentor was a little sore, but otherwise unscathed, Peter provided his accurate guess. “I think it was turbulence.”

Tony shot Peter a confused look. “No, it couldn’t be. All of these planes are set to either detect and avoid turbulence or destroy it.” Tony started towards the cockpit, making sure all systems were still active. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, show me something.”

A robotic response: “Yes boss.”

Now it was Peter’s turn to be confused. “What do you mean by ‘destroy’?”

Tony answered distractedly as he surveyed all of the buttons, gadgets, and screens, trying to detect any anomalies. “Whenever any turbulence is indicated, whether it’s been caused by upward or downward air currents or whether it’s clear air turbulence, the plane uses ultraviolet lasers to send pulses out, destroying it. F.R.I.D.A.Y, anything?”

“There’s nothing abnormal that I’ve detected boss. The plane’s ultraviolet lasers are fully operational, along with the radar.” F.R.I.D.A.Y sounded as perplexed as any A.I. could.

Peter, who had stayed back in the cabin, absolutely astounded by the fact that this plane could fire ultraviolet laser pulses at turbulence, joined Tony in the tight space. “Wait, F.R.I.D.A.Y, could the lasers have misfired?”

“Hmm. Let me see.” A brief pause, as the intelligence system searched for any indication that the lasers had been activated. “There is no report of the ultraviolet lasers firing, Mr. Parker.” Both heros sighed, still trying to think up some sort of explanation.

“Uh, Mr. Stark? Where are we?” In a rush to figure out the problem and/or to see the lasers in action, as any STEM student would, Peter hadn’t really looked out the cockpit windows, nor had he noticed the darkened cabin while he was avoiding the bumpy effects of turbulence.

Other than the plane’s lights, which scanned across whispy clouds, swirling into invisible vapour once making contact with the metal bird, nothing could be seen. It was pitch black, and even Peter’s enhanced eyesight couldn’t detect more than a couple hundred feet in front of the plane’s nose. There was no light of the moon and no clusters of stars, all most likely hidden by a layer of clouds hundreds of feet above.

Tony, still distracted by the cause of their turbulence issue, absentmindedly asked F.R.I.D.A.Y for a rundown of their position.

“It is currently 1:13am Central European Time Zone. The temperature reported nearest to Hallstatt, Switzerland is 10*C. The plane is at an altitude of 5417 meters and has decreased the rate of descent from 153 meters per minute to 50 meters per minute in order to avoid collision with the mountainous alpine region. Expected arrival time to Hallstatt, Switzerland’s landing strip is 1:41am Central European Time Zone.”

“Geez, I can’t believe I slept for nearly nine hours.” Peter quickly converted the different time zones in his head. Despite the strange turbulence occurance, he couldn’t help but feel better, both physically and mentally. Maybe his tumble on his way to the Compound had affected him more than he thought. He had been so tense, and he’d gotten so worked up about such trivial things. Now, all he felt was embarrassed about his behavior.

On a more positive side, his shoulder and back muscles no longer felt tight, and he felt sharper, like it was much easier to focus. His Peter-tingle was doing its job appropriately, a quick glance under his grey hoodie revealed that the purple and yellow bruises that had covered his shoulder were gone, and he actually felt like he had an idea as to what caused the malfunctioning ultraviolet lasers.

“Hey, Mr. Stark.” Tony switched his aggravated glance from the weather radar to Peter. “I think that the lasers might be affected by Hallstatt’s reactors, or something. I mean, we’re so close, and maybe the gamma radiation spikes that were picked up by Berlin are having some sort of affect on the ultraviolet radiation in the lasers.”

Tony kept his eyes trained to the screens. “No, kid, it doesn’t work like that. That’s like saying a microwave could heat my pizza and take X-rays. Ultraviolet and gamma radiation’s different properties wouldn’t allow for them to interfere with one another.” After a glance at Peter’s crestfallen face, Tony softened, realizing he was speaking a bit harshly, especially after remembering Peter’s last reaction to a correction. “It’s a thought, but I don’t think that that is scientifically possible.”

In a snap, Peter had a sheepish grin on his face. “Yeah, sorry. I was getting a little bit ahead of myself.” Peter rubbed a hand at the back of his head. “I guess we should just have some of Fury’s plane experts look at it.”

Tony was glad that Peter was no longer taking things so personally. He seemed to be back to normal. Even in a field that he wasn’t too familiar with, he was still analyzing, critically thinking, brainstorming ideas, shouting them out, regardless if they were right or wrong, and he did it all while dealing with a moody mentor. That was his kid.

“Yeah, I guess that’s all we can do. We’ll just have to deal with turbulence like other commercial airlines.” Tony guided Peter out of the cockpit. “Jesus, Oatmeal Creme Pies and turbulence. I haven’t been in the economy class since never.”

“Geez, Mr. Stark! How many of those did you eat?” Peter began picking up the bits of plastic tossed about the cabin.

“I only ate my half’s worth! Besides, they’re actually better than I thought they would be.” Tony’s voice slowed and trailed off, almost as if he was ashamed for liking the processed, too-sweet snack.

“Told you!” Peter grinned victoriously as the two of them continued picking up trash, closing all of the plane’s busted open baggage compartments, and repositioning Peter’s fallen suitcase.

Peter knew it was pretty difficult for his mentor to apologize out loud to his face. However, Tony’s appreciation for his “poor people food” and one of his uncle’s favorite road trip snacks was apology enough. While Tony had trouble asking for forgiveness, and did so in his own special way, Peter was much more up front.

After a few tense minutes of the two straightening up the cabin and getting ready for their arrival, Peter broke the ice.

“Mr. Stark, I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry for how I was acting earlier. It was really immature and. . . I don’t even really know what happened. I think I was just kind of tense for the mission, or something. But I promise, I’m on my ‘A game’ now, and it won’t happen again.” Peter tried to sound as sincere as he felt.

Tony, no longer having anything to straighten up, headed towards the cockpit, giving it one last once-over. He always had a little trouble in showing his emotions whenever it came to the kid apologizing for things that were never really his fault to begin with. “Nah, kiddo, it’s no big deal. You were really fine earlier. I probably,” he cleared his throat, “said some things I shouldn’t have and you responded like anyone else would have. I am really glad that you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks for getting it, Mr. Stark.” Peter smiled. Even though he was shuffling around in the cockpit, looking for something to do with his hands, Tony had still given him a verbal apology, something that came as a complete surprise and wasn’t to be taken lightly.

“Yeah, no problem.” Now that the gushy, heartfelt moments had gotten their points across, Tony came back into the cabin. “We’ll probably be landing in about twenty minutes. Make sure all of your stuff’s together.” Tony grabbed his carry-on from where it had tumbled underneath the seats.

The mission was about to begin.

\-----------------------------

“Gentlemen! Welcome to Hallstatt!” Maxime Roth greeted the two heros as they headed down the steps of the aircraft.

The three exchanged pleasantries, and to both Avengers, it became clear that this would be a simple mission with no major conflicts. While the only light present came from the blinking LED runway lights, Peter and Tony could still make out the man’s appearance.

He wore jeans and a bulky brown hoodie. His hands were rough and weathered, but warm, and a lone black ring rest itself on the ring finger of his right hand. He was fairly tall, and definitely packed some muscle, but based on his boisterous, welcoming personality, Tony believed the man to be a giant teddy-bear.

While Peter’s sixth sense always went a bit on edge upon meeting new people, especially in new places, the man’s honest smile and pleasant dark eyes made the short initial buzz at the base of his spine cease. Another bonus was the man’s flawless English. While many of his words had a slight French accent, he was extremely easy to understand.

“Director Fury told me he was sending a couple of scientists to investigate our nuclear reactors; however, a journey to the caverns at this time of night is not safe. Please, allow me to take you and your things to where you will be staying tonight.” Roth gestured over to a wooden carriage and cart, drawn by two bulky, shiny, jet-black draft horses.

The carriage and cart were very simple. Open to the night sky, but obviously capable of some sort of cover in case of rain or snow. The horses were pacing from hoof to hoof, probably in a daze as to why they were not in the stables, and were instead drawing a carriage in the dead of night.

While Peter couldn’t keep his mouth from dropping, Tony quickly provided an answer for the both of them. “Thank you very much for the offer, Mr. Roth. Peter and I will just grab our bags.”

“Please, call me Maxime.” Maxime smiled at the two as he headed over to the carriage to soothe the horses and to make sure they had not unhitched in their fright at the aircraft’s initial landing.

“Uh, Mr. Stark-” Peter started.

Tony, believing that Peter was curious as to why Maxime believed that they were scientists and not Avengers, quickly cut Peter off, “We’ll talk about it when we get to where we’re staying.” Tony knew he was being a bit curt, but for the moment, he just wanted to get situated so they could get ready for the rest of their mission.

Peter helped Tony grab the bags, still with a worried and cautious look on his face. As the two headed towards the cart, Maxime met them halfway and offered to take one of Tony’s bags, who replied with a handoff and a quick thanks.

The three worked in an assembly line, with Maxime loading the cart, Tony, the middleman, and finally, Peter, who kept his distance.

Maxime tightened several frayed ropes around the luggage. “Alright gentlemen. That should do it. Now, let us get you to the guest house.” Maxime opened the door to the passenger portion of the carriage, offered an open-handed gesture for the two to climb aboard, and then proceeded to his own seat where he could direct the horses. He struck a match and lit an old kerosene lantern to provide some light for Peter and Tony.

Tony started up the step that led to the wooden seats, but stopped when he noticed Peter had yet to move from his position behind the cart. “Come on Pete, we haven’t got all day.”

“I don’t know Mr. Stark. Uh, I-I don’t think this is very safe.” It was very clear that Peter was nervous and uncomfortable. His brief stutter and the way he was picking at his hands a clear indication.

Tony checked to see that Maxime hadn’t heard the statement that could be perceived as ungrateful or rude. He was glad to see the man crouched low in his seat, seeming to be murmuring to the horses. Tony then dropped his voice to a level that only an enhanced like Peter would be able to pick up, and he took a commanding tone, “Peter, it’s safe. Come on, right now. We’re just regular guys to him, and that’s who we’re gonna be.”

Peter lowered his gaze and whispered, “But the horses.”

_ Oh._ That’s not what Tony thought Peter was nervous about at all! Of course Peter wouldn’t be familiar with horses, he had lived in New York City his entire life! Plus, the Parkers didn’t seem like the kinds of people to ride the Central Park carriages, where horses would occasionally drop dead from being overworked.

The same could have been said for Tony five years ago. However, after the Snap, there were many occasions where he and Pepper would go riding out in the countryside. It was something new that the two could learn together, and the rhythmic movement of a horse was something that helped ease his pain. Once she was big enough, he even helped Morgan ride a pony. And, while his alpacas were not horses, Tony had become acquainted with farm life and livestock, and therefore, horses didn’t scare him.

Tony couldn’t help but smile at Peter’s quiet admission as he sat himself in the seat behind Maxime, his back to him. He gestured for Peter to come closer to the carriage. “Come on Underoos, there’s nothing to be scared of. These horses are acting dead as doornails. They aren’t gonna bolt.”

Peter slowly got closer and took Tony’s offered hand. He started to climb in, but paused several times as the horses rocked the carriage. After a little more coaxing, Peter sighed once he finally had all limbs within the carriage and his butt planted in the seat across from Tony. However, he couldn’t keep relaxed as he worried that the horses may take off unexpectedly.

As if Maxime could sense Peter’s unease, he offered a kind reassurance. “Do not worry gentlemen. We will take it nice and slow.” He made a few clicking sounds, snapped the reins, and the horses started off at a brisk walk.

Within a few minutes, Peter felt much more relaxed and even pleasantly surprised. The carriage would rock from side to side occasionally, but it wasn’t extremely bumpy like he worried it would be. He tried not to let the fact that the horses had scared him at first bother him. Tons of things scared tons of people, and he hadn’t been afraid. Not Spider-Man. He’d just been a little nervous. To prove his courage, he started up a conversation.

“So, how do the horses know where they’re going, Maxime?” Peter asked without a single waver. Score!

“Oh, these horses? They know these roads and trails better than any of the people living here. I do not even need to guide them. I am only sitting up here to keep them from having a midnight snack.” Maxime chuckled. “But they are good horses.”

There was a small pause as Peter wondered what was appropriate to ask. “The carriage is really cool and all sir, but do you guys have cars?”

Maxime was a little slow to answer this question. “We do not have cars or anything like that here. We use horses, carriages, and carts. The only type of transportation other than that, that the people have seen, is the airplanes of importers that come for our pharmaceuticals. Did you know I have not actually even seen a car? In school, they showed us pictures, but I’ve never seen one up close or been inside of one.”

_ Wow,_ Peter thought. Fury wasn’t joking around when he said that the town kept pretty closed off from the rest of the world.

Maxime continued peaking Peter and Tony’s curiosity when talking about the roadways. “We either have dirt paths or cobblestone, we do not really have any use for that asphalt stuff. But we like it like this. It is a lot cleaner. Cleaner streets, cleaner air, cleaner life.”

Tony, who had been watching Peter’s face to gauge his reactions, turned his head to get Maxime in his peripheral vision, and asked his own question. “What about the nuclear reactors? You guys obviously have some high-tech gear working up there. And how do you get to the caverns?"

“Of course. We do have the nuclear reactors, which require a great deal of engineering and technology. And we have an entrance a bit higher on Mt. Mort Noir that has a lift to get our miners too and from the caverns. However, we usually trek up the mountain to that entrance, or ride on horseback.” Maxime’s demeanor suddenly changed. Peter could see from the light of the lantern that his smile had faded, and his shoulders were hunched.

His voice was a bit softer and less upbeat. “I know that in the past, we were ordered to create weapons, and that is all that the rest of the world probably cares to know that we have done. But we try to put that all behind us. Me and many of the other men have agreed to keep this technology out of the village so that the people can live in peace and worry less. We are trying to make up for what we have done by giving back to the world, but I do not really know how much that is good for anymore.”

Tony felt a pang at the man’s tone; he could relate to Maxime and the people of Hallstatt. There was a time when he used to benefit off of making weapons, and it hadn’t even been forced upon him. Now, he had devoted his life to escaping his old arrogant self, but he knew that not everyone in the world was on board with that. “Well, you know, the parts of the world that really know who you are don’t blame you and are most likely grateful to get the resources.” Tony was a little cautious, not knowing how much this man knew. “And, it wasn’t Hallstatt’s fault. Hydra can get to anybody, and they don’t care what they leave behind.”

Peter sent a sad glance at Tony, knowing that the man was probably thinking about his parents, and what Hydra made the Winter Soldier do to them.

Maxime answered, “Very true, Tony. Very true.” After that, it was silent for a while. Not a tense silence, not a comfortable silence, just a silence between the men. Tony was stuck in his head, the memory of his mother playing “September” on the piano ringing in his ears. Peter was focused on the flickering of the lantern, the thrumming of the horses hooves on the ground, and the chill in the air.

Peter was glad that he had worn his hoodie, as this was much chillier weather from the summer heat back home. Even though it was 10*C, or, after he did the quick math in his head, 50*F, the lack of sunshine made it seem even colder, and he could feel goosebumps rising on his arms. He wished he’d have sat next to Tony.

The carriage took a wide turn down an uneven hill, and the lights of the town came into view. While all of the houses were dark, a few ancient looking streetlights were dotted throughout the town, providing ample amounts of light for the people who had grown up there.

Before the carriage could fall under the glow of the first light post, Maxime drew back on the reins, bringing the horses and carriage to a stop. He was back to his spritely self. “This is where you gentlemen will be staying.”

It was a small looking cottage, but actually looked quite homey. The door was oval shaped, and the windowsills appeared to have flowerpots, filled with blooming flowers whose colors could not be made out, but were beautiful all the same.

The three men climbed down from the carriage and began taking the luggage from the back of the cart. Peter, who had become accustomed to the horses, was no longer skittish and didn’t even hesitate to grab whatever he could. There was a silent agreement among the men that the luggage would be transported in one trip.

As Peter pretended to huff and puff, like any teenager carrying four heavy bags of luggage would, Maxime grabbed a key from his pocket, unlocked the wooden door, and stepped inside. Each of them squinted as the light was turned on, Peter taking the most time to adjust with his enhanced senses.

They all unloaded their bags at the front door, Peter and Tony walking around to explore. The inside of the guest house appeared as cozy as the outside. There were two tiny bedrooms, each with a small closet and a few wiry clothes hangers. One bedroom had a king size bed, taking up almost all of the space, and the other had two twin size beds. There was a bathroom with a very clean looking bathtub/shower. A kitchen/living room with a stovetop, a coffee maker, a sink, a table with four chairs, a couch, and a fireplace filled the remaining space. The walls were a simple cream colored, and the floor was carpeted, except for a few dark tiles laid out at the entrance, and around the kitchen area.

“See, we are not barbarians! We have got electricity, running water, and caffeine. Does this suit you?” Maxime asked expectantly.

“Yes, thank you for your hospitality.” Tony replied as he eyed the coffee maker.

“Excellent!” Maxime clapped his hands together. “My apologies gentlemen, but it is very late, and I need rest if we are to visit the caverns tomorrow.”

“No, please. Don’t stay on our account. We’ll unpack, maybe rest up some more and be ready whenever you are.” Tony stated as he glanced into the bedroom housing the two twin beds, Peter already appearing to have crashed on one of them.

“I will visit around 8:00 o’ clock tomorrow and take you into town. There is a lovely place to get breakfast there. Then, I can get you two to the reactors. Goodnight to you both!” Maxime finished as he handed Tony the house key and walked out the door.

“Goodnight.” Tony returned as he shut and locked the door. While the town seemed harmless, it was a force of habit.

Tony moved Peter’s suitcase from the front door and dropped it on the bed across from where he’d chosen to sleep. Tony removed Peter’s shoes, which he had neglected to do himself, and tucked the covers around him. Finally, Tony turned off the light. Peter sighed in his sleep, relaxing further into his pillow, content. Tony smiled as he quietly closed the door, not at all surprised that the kid was as tired as he was. While Tony had grown up flying around the world six ways to Sunday, Peter had probably only ever been on a plane this one time and the time he went to Berlin. Despite a nearly nine hour nap during the flight, jet-lag could strike whenever.

Tony then placed the bags with his clothes on his king sized bed, leaving the other hard suitcases with his other necessities, like his nanotech suit and F.R.I.D.A.Y glasses, at the door. They weren’t in the way, and it’s not like him and Peter would be doing a lot of hanging out at the house.

Tony crouched low to open one of the smaller suitcases and pulled out his Finca El Injerto Coffee. He fixed himself a pot, grabbed a mug, plopped on the couch, put on his reading glasses and started a book Pepper had recommended he read in order to help with Morgan. He hadn’t planned on sleeping and was even used to running on four hours for a day or two. With a nine hour nap on the plane, he was honestly good to go for the rest of the trip.

Tony opened the book, _Father to Daughter_, and began reading “Life Lessons on Raising a Girl”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When it comes to original characters, I like to describe them a little, but not too much because I sort of like to leave it to the discrepancy of the reader. Whenever I'm reading books or stories, and there's a new character introduced, regardless of what the author describes, I usually just picture someone I know from another movie, TV show, real life, etc.. I don't think that that is a me thing either; it's just what happens when we read stories like movies in our heads.
> 
> Sorry if I made Peter sound not as smart as usual. That might be a little OOC.
> 
> Also, I did some research and scientists are actually in the process of developing ultraviolet lasers used to destroy turbulence. I just thought that that was neat.
> 
> Also, when Tony is thinking about his mother playing the song "September" on the piano, that is the song she is playing on the piano in Captain America: Civil War in the B.A.R.F simulation, not the classic by Earth, Wind & Fire.
> 
> Also, the coffee that Tony is drinking is really fancy, and costs over $500/lb..
> 
> Also, Tony's book is a real book by Harry H. Harrison Jr..
> 
> So sorry there still hasn't been much whump yet. I know I've extended a chapter, I just had to break this one and the next chapter apart because I didn't want it to get too long. But we've seen the tags. We've seen the potential. It's coming!!!!!!!!!  
-WithACherryOnTop
> 
> *singing: Do you remember, the 21st night of September?  
-Just_the_Editor


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, I'm sorry it took so long, but this chapter is even longer than the last chapter! Happy early Thanksgiving everybody!  
-WithACherryOnTop

While he only had several chapters remaining in his book, Tony’s internal clock was telling him it was time to start getting ready for Maxime’s arrival. Sure enough, the miniscule digital clock on the coffee maker read 7:07.

He removed his reading glasses, dropped his coffee mug off at the sink, grabbed an apple from the complimentary fruit bowl he had just now noticed on the table, and readied himself to awaken the slumbering teenager. Without any preamble, he opened the bedroom door.

“All right! Up and at ‘em Underoos!” The light from the rest of the cottage cascaded into the dark, windowless room. He threw the apple, only for it to land squarely on the barely-awake teenager’s left shoulder blade.

Peter whipped back the blankets, shocked enough by the harmless fruit to nearly fall out of bed. One annoying thing about Peter’s spidey-sense was that it could categorize potential threats. An apple thrown at him by Flash would cause a mild buzz in his spine. An apple thrown at him by Adrian Toomes would cause a fierce shockwave throughout his spine all the way to the base of his skull. But an apple thrown at him by Tony Stark wouldn’t warrant for any sort of reaction.

Peter, didn’t want Tony to figure that out, but it seemed that he already had. Sometimes, Peter felt betrayed by his sixth sense.

“Oh my gosh, Mr. Stark! You can’t do that! What if I’d thought you were an enemy and attacked you or something?!” Peter shielded his eyes from the light streaming into his room.

Tony just laughed. “Yeah, you’re totally right. I feel threatened already. I could never defend myself from ‘Mr. Hoodie-Sweatpants.’ You ‘oughta make that your new alias. ”

Peter could only think to respond with a mumbled “shut up” as he pulled the covers back over his head.

Tony turned on the bedroom light, much to Peter’s absolute delight. “Turn it off!”

“Yeah, don’t go back to sleep, kid. Maxime’s gonna be here in under an hour. Eat your apple. Take a shower. Preferably in that order.” Tony rapped his knuckles against the doorway as he took his leave.

Peter sighed as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. He gave a quick stretch and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. With the apple stuck in his mouth, he started arranging his toiletries and picked his clothes out for the day. While he would have rather worn one of his science-pun shirts, that seemed a bit inappropriate for the occasion. Layers it was.

He trudged his way to the bathroom, found some towels in the cabinet underneath the sink, and began figuring out the complexities of a new house’s shower faucets.

\-------------------------

“Good morning Mr. Stark.” Peter rounded the short hallway’s corner, heading back into his room to discard his previous night’s sleeping clothes. He was always in a much better mood after food and a shower.

“I’d say that’s a bit late, but I’ll let it slide. Good morning.” Tony was working on another cup of coffee.

With that, Peter was off. “So like, what’s the plan today? I know we’re going for breakfast in a little bit. What kind of breakfast do you think they’ll have here? I wonder if it’ll be like an English breakfast. Are we gonna head straight to the caves afterwards, or are we gonna come back here and get some supplies? I don’t know if I’ll bring my webshooters to breakfast. Should I?”

Tony just smiled at Peter’s nervous and excited rambling. “Hey, do me a favor?” Tony didn’t wait for Peter to acknowledge him. “Take a look outside.”

Peter stepped over to the square window next to the door. “Oh my gosh.”

Earlier, on his way to the shower, Peter was too groggy to take a moment to look outside. A _huge_ mistake, as the early sunrise would have most likely added an entire new element to the landscape stretched out before him.

There were dozens of snowy peaks way off in the distance, but also, large, rugged, black mountains boxing in the village; they cast shadows as far around as Peter could see. However, unlike the huge skyscrapers back in New York, the mountains didn’t make the area seem claustrophobic. The sheer mass of the Alps were too striking to invoke fear.

The valleys were the complete opposite of the dark mountains with the white powdered peaks. There were bright blue streams, some even collecting in shallow pools before trailing along out of sight, small pockets of tiny, colorful flowers, and even what appeared to be lush, green meadows. Unfortunately, most of the valley stretched down below the village. While Hallstatt was located at the base of Mt. Mort Noir, it was still twelve thousand feet above sea level.

Because their home away from home was located just outside the village, there was lots of livestock surrounding them: chickens bobbed their heads as they picked at whatever bugs they could find, goats were dotted all along an enormous paddock, stripping away whatever vegetation they could, and freshly sheared sheep were grouped together, their necks adorning bells.

“It’s uh- be-, I mean. Wow. That’s really something else,” Peter stammered out.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it,” Tony finished Peter’s thoughts for him.

“Yes! I’ve never seen anything like that. Holy cow! I mean, its’ huge!” Peter’s eyes were wide, a huge grin on his face.

Tony had been to Switzerland before, a New Year’s Eve party that he didn’t really like to remember, but he had never really appreciated the beauty of such a place back then. Now, what he really appreciated was Peter’s own reaction. To say that Peter was starstruck would be an understatement.

“Do you think Maxime will take us down into the valley? That would be so cool! I bet there’re waterfalls leading to it. Ugh, I can’t remember if I packed my camera or not. Man, May would really love this.” Peter couldn’t move from the window.

“Yeah, I bet she would. Maybe I’ll build a house out here and we can have a big trip with the team. May would certainly be welcome. And to answer your earlier babble, I’m gonna tell Maxime that we want to come back to the house after breakfast to pick up some snacks for the day. ‘Snacks’ of course being webshooters, F.R.I.D.A.Y, and the nano-suit.” Tony doubted Peter was really listening, as he was still at the window with the most pure look of fascination.

“Maybe we could head outside, get a headstart to breakfast?” Peter asked.

“Nice try, but we’ll wait for Maxime. After all, it would be rude for two sophisticated scientists to blow-off an early morning meeting with the man of the town.” Tony smirked.

That finally knocked Peter back to his senses. “ Yeah, what was up with that? I thought Mr. Fury would have just said that you and your intern were coming. There’s no way I look old enough to be a scientist with actual Ph.D’s. And he doesn’t even know who you are? How does someone not know who Iron Man is, let alone Tony Stark?”

Tony offered his best explanation. “I assume it’s because of how closed off the village is from the rest of the world. Maxime did say that they have a school here, but I don’t know what they’re teaching. Probably not much history, I bet. And with a small town, I’m sure that, whatever the curriculum is, it’s extremely accelerated. There are probably twelve year-olds who know more than a Midtown senior.”

Peter started putting it all together, directing his gaze at Tony instead of out the window. “So you’re saying they probably have what we would call ‘genius kids’ here, but to them, that’s normal. So a sixteen year old being a scientist isn’t out of the ordinary?”

“Exactly. Anyways, it’s probably a good thing that kids don’t learn about ‘Manhattan Project Howard Stark’ and ‘Jericho Tony Stark’” Tony broke eye contact.

“Yeah, but they could still learn about ‘Saved the Entire Universe Tony Stark’” Peter tried pulling Tony from his self-loathing thoughts.

“Ah come on, kid. Half of that was on you and you know it.” Tony brightened a little.

“I would have never thought about taking the stones off of the gauntlet, let alone snapping my fingers. But you believe whatever you want, so long as it makes you feel good and makes me seem even awesomer than I am.” Peter stated victoriously with a lilt in his voice.

“Yeah, ‘awesomer’ is being too scared of horses to function.” Tony took a stab.

Peter was quick to defend himself. “Hey! You were totally fine with it last night! And anyways, they just startled me. I’m not afraid of horses! And what about you? I heard Mr. Rhodes say that you were afraid of-”

“Hey look, there’s Maxime! Saved by the bell, am I right?” Tony pointed out the window, and sure enough, Maxime was walking up the short path to the cottage doors, the carriage drawn by the two black horses behind him.

“Finally!” Peter ripped open the front door before Maxime could even knock. “Good morning Maxime!”

“Good morning Peter, Tony.” Maxime waved at Tony, who rose from his chair. “Are we ready for breakfast this morning?”

“Yes, very much so.” Tony followed Peter out the door, who was already in a hurry to survey his surroundings from outside the cottage. While Maxime seemed to be in a bit of an excited rush for the two heros to get to breakfast, Tony wanted to let Peter have a small amount of time to explore. “Actually, on second thought, I might change into some different shoes, it looks a bit dewy out. Give me just a minute.” Without waiting for Maxime’s response Tony headed back inside.

Peter had placed himself at the fence of one of the sheep paddocks, and was watching the small flock watching him. He couldn’t help but smile at their dopey looks. Sheep just had the strangest eyes.

When he turned around to see if Maxime and Tony were making their way towards the carriage, he noticed that Tony had gone back inside, and that Maxime was looking at him. Being shy, Peter turned his gaze upwards at the mountain he had presumed was right behind the little house. Was that Mt. Mort Noir? In his peripheral vision, he noticed that Maxime was coming over to join him.

“Are you enjoying the view Peter?” Maxime asked kindly.

“Yeah, it really is something else. Where I live, all there are are tons of buildings. I’ve never really seen mountains like this before. Or grass, for that matter.” Peter laughed, a little awkwardly. He always was a little nervous around people when Tony wasn’t around.

Maxime didn’t seem to be bothered by Peter’s shyness. “Skyscrapers, that is what you call them, right?”

“Yeah, they’re extremely tall, but definitely not mountain tall.” Peter saw Tony emerge from the cottage, shutting the door behind him. He now had a different pair of shoes on and a light grey jacket. “There’s Mr. Stark. We can probably go now.”

Maxime and Peter met Tony at the carriage; while Maxime took his seat where he could direct the horses, Peter and Tony climbed in, Peter without any coaxing or assistance. Maxime snapped the reins, and the group was set out for the village.

With each turn of the carriage’s wheels, more of the landscape and Hallstatt was revealed. And with each turn of the carriage’s wheels, Peter found even more to be at awe with. The mountains completely ensconced the town! To Peter, it almost seemed like the mountains were alive. Silent, intimidating, protective. This place really was something special!

It wasn’t long before houses, stables, and paddocks came into view. Each of the houses weren’t much bigger than where Peter and Tony were staying, but they had a german style. They were a very light beige with very dark timber frames. All of the houses were uniform, and they all had black shingles, window shutters, and front doors.

This far from the center of town, there weren’t very many people out, except for one man who was heading towards his stables. Maxime called out and waved to him, and the man returned the gesture. He didn’t seem at all curious about who Maxime had riding in his carriage.

Not much further down the trail, they encountered a rider. He looked like a cowboy, wearing black boots and a matching hat. He was also riding a jet black stallion that looked identical to the two horses drawing the carriage.

“Good morning Maxime!” The man greeted, tipping his hat to Tony and Peter as he trotted by.

Now Peter was curious. “So, are these the same horses from last night?”

“No no no. Those horses are resting right now. I have got two new troublemakers to take us from place to place.” Maxime answered while reaching down to give the two horses a playful swat.

“So there’s no ‘Horse of a Different Color’ here? Are all of your horses black like that?” Tony voiced one of Peter’s questions.

“Yes, they are. It is the genetic composition of the horses. We have only ever had black horses. Black from mane to tail. And, they are not even Friesians. They are just saddlebreds.” Maxime informed, seeming very proud.

“Well they are very stunning animals. I wonder if that’s a very common genetic phenomenon.” The gears were turning in Tony’s head, trying to recover any information on horse hair pigmentation and what not.

“I am not sure about that. But, I do not think that the horses would be very willing to offer you any samples.” Maxime half joked.

Tony laughed. “Of course not. We’re just here for nuclear reactors. And breakfast, of course.”

Maxime laughed with Tony. “Well, you will not have to wait much longer.”

Peter just remained in his own head, thinking about Punnett Squares.

Finally, the heart of Hallstatt came into view.

Maxime pulled the horses to a slow walk, as the cobblestone streets were bustling with townspeople. Every store had the same german style as the houses, along with black shingles and window shutters. Overhead, there were black banners connecting each of the shops from across the streets. There were over a dozen riders in the town, all sitting atop black stallions or mares. Even the light posts had black decorations and pennants hanging from them. Black was definitely a theme in Hallstatt.

Many of the townspeople were just going along with their day, but a good amount also stopped to take notice of Maxime and his guests. Most of them would smile and wave, and while Tony and Peter weren’t sure if they were directing their greetings towards them or Maxime, they would smile and nod back.

“Oh my gosh, everyone is so nice here.” Peter was smiling and waving at a shy little girl.

“We do not get very many guests here, so many of our people are going out of their way to be welcoming. And here we are. I hope you both are very hungry.” Maxime dragged the carriage to a stop in front of one of the identical buildings.

\--------------------

“Wow, I don’t think I’ll need to eat until next week.” Peter climbed back into the carriage, very carefully, as he did not want to upset his stomach. Upon first sitting down at the diner and viewing the menu, Peter had been a little confused on what to get. The menu was all in French, but thankfully had pictures. While most of the food drew along the lines of a classic English breakfast, the back of the menu had several items that Peter could play it safe with. In the end, he had eaten an inhuman amount of what looked like pancakes bathed in maple syrup, a lot of scrambled eggs, and almost an entire bowl of diced assorted fruits.

“Yeah, you’ll be asking me for a snack in a few hours.” Tony stated truthfully as he climbed in behind Peter. Tony had ordered food leaning more towards an English breakfast, which Peter couldn’t imagine why. Who would want to eat tomatoes and beans at breakfast time? It was unorthodox to put it simply.

“Peter is definitely still a growing boy, Tony. Wait until he sees what is for dinner!” Maxime took his seat, and began directing the horses throughout the center of town. They were heading north, away from Tony and Peter’s lodging.

“Maxime.” Tony started before they could get too far. “You wouldn’t mind taking us back to the house so we can pick up some snacks for the day.”

“Oh, that is not necessary. Me and the others who will be taking you to the caverns had that in mind and will provide for you.” He stayed the course.

“That’s very much appreciated, but I’ve got some special snacks that I need to have.” Tony urged.

“Special how?” Maxime countered.

As both men started to plead their cases, Peter grew tense at the light but present bickering. The plan had been to get F.R.I.D.A.Y, his webshooters, and Tony’s suit before they went to the caverns, and he knew that Tony would need F.R.I.D.A.Y to record and save any information that they needed to put Fury at ease. Plus, he always felt a little better with his webshooters on him.

“Please, take us back to the house, _now_.” Tony practically commanded.

Before Maxime could respond, Peter butted in. “I’m sorry Mr. Roth, Mr. Stark didn’t want to tell you because he thought it was kind of invading my privacy, but I have some medication that I take, and I accidentally left it at the house. I’m really sorry, but I really need it. Could we please go back?”

Maxime seemed to soften at Peter’s admission. “Yes, yes, of course. I am very sorry to you both. I should not have questioned you. We will go back.” He turned them around.

\-----------------

It was a pretty awkward ride back, but finally, they pulled in front of the cottage.

Maxime still seemed downtrodden that he had upset the both of them so much. He handed Tony the key. “Please, get your things, I will pull the carriage back around.”

Tony was still a little defensive. “Come on Pete.”

After stepping inside and closing the door, they could finally get what they needed.

“That was a good call their Peter. Nothing like a little white lie to get the point across.” Tony complimented Peter as he attached his nano-suit housing device to his chest and covered it with his jacket.

Peter pulled his sleeves down over his webshooters. “Yeah, I just didn’t want to see you guys get mad at each other.”

Tony then pocketed the F.R.I.D.A.Y glasses. “Wasn’t mad, just very forward. Maybe I oughtta change into a black jacket to make him feel better.” Tony joked.

“That whole ‘black’ thing is so weird. Like, is it just a coincidence, or some sort of decorative statement.” Peter joked back.

“I have no idea, but it is kind of strange, in my opinion at least. But I’m not one to judge the town that has little to no contact with the outside world.” Tony brought his hands up placatingly.

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Mr. Stark, have you ever seen _The Village_?”

Tony looked confused. “_The_ what?”

Peter began to rant. “It’s this really cool movie where there is a village of people that live kind of like people lived in the old days. But all of the village people are afraid of this crazy beast that wears a red robe, and they all call the color red the ‘bad color’ or whatever. But they have like this ‘good color’ too, which is yellow. But, something bad happens to the main character’s fiance, so she has to leave the village. Also, she’s blind, so it’s extra difficult for her. And then at the end, you find out, well, I don’t want to spoil it for you, but it’s really cool. It’s got Bryce Dallas Howard in it and that Sigourney lady from _Aliens_.”

“Well, I guess Hallstatt and that village do share some similarities, but I don’t think they have some wild beasts terrorizing them. Maybe we can watch it when we get back, but right now we’ve gotta go before Maxime thinks we’re avoiding him.” Tony ushered Peter out the door, and he locked it behind him, being sure to hang on to the key this time.

Maxime, had pulled the carriage around and was waiting for them. “Did you get what you needed?”

“Yes, thank you for taking us back.” Peter smiled while Tony kept silent.

Maxime started the horses north. “When we get to the base of Mort Noir, there will be a party waiting to help us trek upwards to the lift. The path is several miles and is very steep, but it should not take very long, even without going horseback.”

“You hear that Mr. Stark? Maybe you shouldn’t go, you might have a heart attack.” Peter joked, trying to get Tony in a better mood.

“Well maybe we would be going via horseback if somebody wasn’t afraid.” Tony jeered back, never one to be the butt of a joke.

“Dude!” Peter cried out indignantly.

At this, Tony and Maxime laughed, both in much better spirits.

\------------------

Mt. Mort Noir didn’t look that special. Of course, all of the mountains were grandiose and spectacular, but the mountain filled with caverns and nuclear reactors didn’t catch the eye. It wasn’t significantly taller than any of the other mountains, in fact, it may have even been a few hundred feet shorter. It wasn’t any darker, it didn’t have any more or less snow at its peak, it had plenty of coniferous trees at its base; Mt. Mort Noir was a basic mountain.

The party of men set to help with the journey up the mountain spoke some broken english. They all shook hands with Tony and Peter, the both of them noticing that all of these men had a black ring on as well as Maxime. There was not much time for small talk and translating, as the men were very quick to get them started up the base of the mountain. Three men led the group, then Maxime, then Tony, then Peter, and finally three more men to bring up the rear.

After two or three miles of steady incline the bushes and trees began thinning out. The air still didn’t really feel thinner, but with all of the climbing and zigging and zagging, Tony tried to ignore that he was completely beat. As it was now nearly noon and there was less shade, he figured that no one would question the adorning of his “sunglasses”.

Quietly, so only F.R.I.D.A.Y and most likely Peter could hear him, Tony asked, “F.R.I.D.A.Y, how far are we from the lift.”

A static response, “Boss, I’m having a significant amount of trouble functioning.” It was almost hard for Tony to even understand the A.I. with it cutting in and out.

“What?” Tony was puzzled. It wasn’t like F.R.I.D.A.Y needed Verizon or LTE to function; his Stark satellite should keep her with him anywhere on Earth.

Peter’s entire skull and spine started buzzing. “Mr. Stark, something’s wrong.” Peter whispered.

Tony’s heart dropped to his stomach. Just as he activated his nano-suit, the ground shook below them. Suddenly, six helmeted men with gear that could rival any former S.H.I.E.L.D agent blasted out from the ground. They had guns, and they were trained on Tony and Peter.

Tony’s suit enveloped him quickly, but there wasn’t enough time for him to transfer some of his nano-tech to Peter before the guns started firing.

Peter was able to practically throw himself up a lone pine tree, where he wouldn’t have protection for long. He climbed to the top of the nearly one hundred fifty foot tree, trying to survey the situation and give himself some cover.

The men didn’t seem fazed at all by a man coated in iron, or a kid defying gravity; it was clear these men were informed on Tony and Peter’s abilities.

The firing halted.

“Now, if you two would be so kind as to join us,” Tony turned towards Maxime, who now had a weapon of his own, “we won’t have to kill you.”

“I think Pete and I will have to skip out on dinner with you.” Tony wanted to keep his mouth running while his mind thought of an escape. Out of the corner of his eye on his screen he saw that his suit was at 58% power and dropping by the second. Impossible, but given the circumstances, possible.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y?” Tony wondered if the A.I. would even come through.

“Boss, the suit’s power is being reduced rapidly. Most systems are down. Repulsors and thrusters are still active.” Yet again, F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice was in and out. All Tony caught was “systems are down”.

Peter wasn’t fairing much better. Without any tall buildings or the Iron Spider suit, he was practically useless for offensive attack, and he couldn’t web up the guns because the piney branches of his current hiding place were in the way. Would his webshooters even work? If F.R.I.D.A.Y was having trouble, could his webshooters suffer the same way?

“I don’t need either of you alive to get what I want, it just helps. But if you want to do this the hard way,” Maxime paused, then the men started firing.

Many of the men aimed upwards in the tree for Peter, but some fired at Tony, curious to see if their weapons could penetrate the titanium alloy. Several bullets ricocheted off of Tony’s suit, as his suit’s power diminished to 41%. He had to get them out of there before it reached 0% and he was only human.

Tony fired several repulsors at the three men who had been behind him and who weren’t in protective gear, then pushed himself back and down the slope where the potential escape was created. “Peter get out of there!”

It was now or never, webshooters or not. Peter launched himself from the tree in a huge arc, and he aimed his webs at the rocky ground near Tony.

“Please work please work.” Peter begged. His webs shot out and met their mark. He activated the retracting mechanism within his webshooters to slingshot him to the ground faster than the men could aim and shoot.

Peter thought they might actually be able to get out of this, until, after only several feet of webbing had retracted, the webs detached from the ground. His webs wouldn’t stick to the organic dirt and rock. Not only was he off course from Tony, and nearly one hundred forty five feet from impacting the ground, he was also completely exposed. He couldn’t defy physics and move out of the men’s line of fire. He was stuck, falling towards a sea of guns. He was going to die.

When Peter’s webs became detached from the ground, Tony had tried to reach out and grab them, but he wasn’t fast enough. He could only watch as Peter fell straight towards Maxime’s men.

Maxime laughed at Peter’s failed attempt for freedom.

The men aimed.

“Pull!” Maxime yelled.

The men fired. Peter, nothing more than a clay pidgeon.

“_Tony!_”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes!!!!! The whump is coming in the next chapter, and I don't know when that chapter's gonna get here. Hopefully it will get here sooner than this chapter. I hope you all enjoyed!  
-WithACherryOnTop
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving everyone!  
-Just_the_Editor


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whump! Let's begin!  
-WithACherryOnTop

“_Tony!_”

Peter wrapped his arms around his head and chest, the most vital areas; while the effort provided him with some comfort, it was useless. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see May again. And Ned, and MJ, and Happy, and Mr. Harrington, and even Flash. But all he saw was the looming barrels of guns and the rocky ground coming up to meet him. He hoped dying wouldn’t hurt.

Tony was in an absolute panic. His screen read out 37%. He wasn’t sure about the capabilities of his thrusters and stabilizers. He was on the side of a mountain. Peter was about to die.

Somewhere, in the back of Tony’s mind, he knew that he was running. Towards Peter? Or towards the armed men? He didn’t know.

_Please miss, please miss,_ Tony couldn’t help but hope in his head.

Midair, Peter’s body jerked violently.

“No!” Tony’s heart had stopped but his legs kept moving.

Maxime and his men stepped back, making no effort to catch the teen, who was only meters from the ground.

Tony could tell that Peter was still alive because his hands were outstretched towards the ground, trying to limit the damage from the impact. It wouldn’t matter.

“Cap! Grab him!” Tony was begging to no one.

In the moment, Tony felt like they were on a typical Avengers mission. One where there was a lot of fun and light banter amongst the team, an open comm, and a lot of Peter putting himself in unnecessary danger. Tony, Steve, and sometimes Thor, were always there to catch him when he would fall, take him back to the jet to receive any sort of medical attention from Bruce, and to scold him on the trip back home. How Tony wished to have the team now.

Peter hit the ground with a thud. His face bouncing off of it once before he lay completely still.

“God dammit!” Tony charged towards the men.

34%.

Not knowing whether the suit would hold out, yet not caring, Tony fired a constant beam at the men from both of his raised palms. There wasn’t enough power to sever their bodies in half, but enough to burn through their thick armour and incapacitate them for a few moments.

21%.

Tony raced over to Peter, and not daring to check for a pulse, hoisted him into his arms bridal style. Fortunately, but unfortunately, Peter proved that he was still alive with a short yell that he quickly cut off, unsure if he was safe.

“Oh, thank God! Sorry bud, we’ve gotta go.” Tony didn’t have any time to be gentle.

“The suit isn’t down! Fire dammit!” Maxime’s voice rose above the pounding in Tony’s ears.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, put everything into the thrusters!” Tony cradled Peter closer to him, tucking his head and neck in his elbow, and they quickly burst off of the ground.

16%.

Once they were out of the tree line, Tony angled himself forward. “Supersonic._ Now!_”

The suit set off at breakneck speed, Tony doing his best to shelter Peter from the wind whipping against his unprotected body. As an enhanced, Peter’s body could withstand supersonic speeds, but that didn’t make it a completely comfortable experience. In addition, Peter was not in good condition to begin with.

In past missions where the two were required to go supersonic, whether it was to escape or chase their target, Peter had always been in the Iron Spider suit, and had been able to consciously stick himself to Tony’s armor.

Now, Peter’s conscious was going haywire. His mind and body were in shock.

All he knew was that his body was moving faster than his mind could catch up. He was cold. He was in pain; adrenaline couldn’t block his injuries.

While Tony was trying to focus on steering the suit, forcing them to get as far away from Hallstatt as possible, he could feel Peter becoming restless in his arms, his panic prominent.

7%.

Through the sound of the wind, Tony could hear Peter beginning to lose himself. “Oh God! Please! I don’t-. Am I alive? Tony? Where’s- Oh God it hurts!” Tony felt Peter trying to arch himself out of his hold.

Knowing now was not the time to coddle Peter, but to keep him alive, Tony tightened his grip and tried to get through to him. “Stop! You need to stop moving! Peter, I need you to listen to me!” His voice was dulled through the mask, the speaker no longer functioning.

Peter, growing weak, slumped back into Tony’s arms. “I can’t hear! Help! Please!” One of Peter’s hands was clutching his abdomen, and the other was making weak grabbing motions for Tony’s chest piece.

4%.

Tony tried to raise his voice. “Peter! Focus up!”

Peter started to still and raised his head towards Tony’s helmet.

“Good! That’s real good! I need you to keep that one hand on your stomach, and I need you to stick to me with the other! Can you do that?!” Tony was trying to focus himself, speaking with Peter, but also planning their no-doubt emergency landing.

Tony could feel one of Peter’s hands at the back of his neck. His nails scraping against the metal, struggling to find any purchase. “I can’t! Tony, I can’t!”

2%.

“It’s all right, it’s all right!” Tony wanted to keep Peter calm enough so that he wouldn’t thrash out of his hold. “I’ve gotta good hold of you, just be still!”

1%.

The suit began dropping closer and closer to the ground, decelerating quickly. Down below, Tony saw an old, rickety house, or barn of some kind in a pretty open field. With the speed they’d been traveling, they had to have been at least twenty or thirty miles from the village, and twenty to thirty miles in the Alps was a lot more difficult to be tracked down in than back in the States.

The suit, however, was no longer following Tony’s commands, and passed right over the potential shelter, heading for a line of trees. Tony saw his screen flash a bright red 0% before it completely shut down.

“Peter!” Tony didn’t wait for any form of acknowledgment. “The suit’s completely down! But I’m gonna flip us over so you land on top of me! You got it?!” Tony was shouting, already beginning to flip so that his back was facing the ground. He quit cradling Peter, but kept him balanced on the suit, hoping the kid would take the cues to wrap his hands around him, along with his legs, and hold on.

Tony heard Peter cry out as he forced himself to move; he had removed his hand from his stomach in order to wrap both arms around Tony’s neck, and now, the wound was being pushed painfully into the suit.

They were getting closer to the trees; Tony knew the suit would go straight through the branches, but a large tree trunk, probably not. Peter couldn’t afford to take anymore hits to the head; Tony wrapped one arm around Peter’s waist, and cradled his head with the other, bracing for impact.

“Hold on!” Just as Tony felt a branch snap beneath the suit, the tree line disappeared to reveal another open field. Thank God for small victories.

When they hit the ground, they didn’t skid, as Tony had hoped, they bounced. At some point, Tony felt Peter’s arms and legs retract from around him. Had Peter lost consciousness? “Peter?! No! Hold on!” Tony’s grip was slipping.

Peter couldn’t hold on anymore. Upon impact, the weight of himself, Tony, and the suit had crushed his hands and one of his legs. In response to the pain, he had pulled his limbs back. Peter felt Tony’s metal hands losing their grip, and Peter couldn’t muster enough strength to reach out for him._ I’m sorry Tony. _

On one particularly jarring bounce, the two fell apart.

\-----------------------------

Peter opened his eyes and stared up at the sky. It was a gorgeous blue, with fluffy white clouds moving rather quickly. _It must be windy_, Peter thought. Judging by where the sun was, it was probably an hour or so past midday. In his peripheral vision, he could see tall, lush, green grass swaying in the wind, some of it brushing against him.

This was odd. Had the group stopped for a rest break? Shouldn’t they be at the cave by now?

Then it all came crashing back.

The mountain trek, Maxime’s deception, guns, falling, flying, falling again, and a whole lot of pain.

Peter’s breathing picked up as some of the aches and pains from falling from the sky _twice_ made themselves known. He scrunched his eyes shut, trying to remember all that his body had been through.

He had been shot, he knew that. It was his lower right side, he also knew that.

He tried to lift his head, but let it drop with a grunt as his neck and back lit up with pain. He didn’t need to see the wound to know that it was bleeding. He could feel a warm trail leading down his right side, and he could hear the drops of blood collecting on the grass.

After a couple of years of being Spider-man, Peter knew that you needed to put pressure on a bleeding wound, especially when you didn’t know when help would be arriving.

_Mr. Stark_, Peter’s eyes widened. Tony _was_ his help.They had been flying together, and now he was gone.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter called out as loud as he could. “Are you there?” Silence. Peter’s breathing began to speed up even more.

_Okay, Mr. Stark isn’t here yet, but he’s coming to get you. You have to take care of this yourself. Just for a little while. You can do it Spider-man._ Peter was trying to keep himself calm, but his breathing pace spoke otherwise.

_Stop the bleeding. Just stop the bleeding,_ he chanted. Peter brought his hands up from where they had been lying on the ground at his sides and let out a shudder. Not only were they shaking, but they were covered in dark black and blue patches. Plus, his right pinkie finger was jutted off to the side at the second knuckle.

He still needed to stop the bleeding.

After a few forced, deep breaths, he set his hands down on what he believed to be the general vicinity of his wound. He gasped as the light pressure made the bullet wound known.

“Press down. Press down. You’re going to die if you don’t. Come on!” Even his voiced chants weren’t giving him much courage to go through with it. But he had to try.

He gave a tentative push and couldn’t bite back his cry. He felt an icy, cold pain deep within the wound, mixed with his hot, bubbling blood. The warring sensations caused him to reflexively arch his back and slightly buck his hips, a huge mistake.

He heard a pop as his left hip went alight with a stabbing pain, right where it connected with the socket.

Peter wanted to kick out his legs. He wanted to dig his fingers in the dirt. He wanted to jostle his body with sobs and cries. He wanted to get up. He wanted to pass out. He wanted to stop feeling. He wanted Tony. He wanted to _move._ But he couldn’t, so he just screamed.

At some point, he wasn’t sure how long, Peter’s screams turned into gasps for much needed air.

That’s when he heard it.

“Peter! Where are you?!” Tony’s voice carried through the wind. “Make another noise!”

Tony was there. He was there to help him.

Light headed and hoarse from his last outcry, Peter tried to make his location known. “Mr. Stark, please! I’m here!”

“I can hear you! I’m coming Peter!” Tony’s voice was even closer.

Peter nearly sighed in relief. Tony would fix this.

\------------------------

Tony was picking himself off of the ground, figuring that he was banged up, but unscathed thanks to the suit, when he heard it. Long, horrible, agonized screams. Just as soon as they had started, they quit.

_Peter!_

“Peter! Where are you?! Make another noise!” Tony trudged over towards where he had thought he had heard the scream. He spun in circles, trying to hear any other sort of noise.

“Mr. Stark please! I’m here!” It was much quieter, but Tony could make out that it had come several yards behind him.

“I can hear you! I’m coming Peter!” Tony was much slower than he would have liked to have been, but the suit was dead weight on him.

Through the tall grass, Tony could make out Peter’s form, lying face-up on the ground. Even from a distance, Tony could see the boy fidgeting.

Peter’s condition finally came into Tony’s view, causing him to halt. “Aw, _Christ._”

“Mr. Stark!” Tony noticed that Peter hadn’t even raised his head or tried to sit up and look at him, he’d just called out to him. “I got shot!” Peter’s chest was heaving as his statement seemed to tip him over the edge, and new tears began to join the streams.

That finally knocked Tony out of his stupor.

“Heyheyhey, calm down.” Tony crouched down next to Peter. “I know you did, buddy. But you’re gonna be just fine. You need to take some deep breaths, alright.”

Tony wanted to grab Peter into a hug, or help him calm down by holding onto his hands, but nowhere looked safe to grab. He finally decided to just settle a hand on his shoulder, occasionally patting it while Peter tried to get his bearings.

Peter was trying his best to slow his breathing, but once his help had arrived, his short grip on self-control had broken. He wasn’t a stranger to pain, and he had been shot at before back in Queens, both as Spider-man and Peter Parker, but he had never actually had a bullet pass through his body, or get stuck in his body for that matter. Everything was so overwhelming!

He had free-fallen towards a firing line with no intentions of being alive when he hit the ground. Now, every slight shift he made, every glance he made at his new surroundings, every “deep breaths bud”, every gentle pat on his shoulder was proof that he’d actually made it out.

_I’m okay. I made it. I made it. I’m okay. I made it_, Peter repeated in his head as his gasps receded.

“You sure did, Pete. But try not to talk too much. Just focus on breathing.” Tony gave him one last pat before taking his hand off of Peter’s shoulder.

Peter gave Tony a strange look. Had he said his self-assuring mantra out loud? Tony didn’t meet his gaze. His eyes were cast lower, towards Peter’s body.

“Alright. First things first, I’m gonna give you a run-down about what you already probably know.” Tony started without giving Peter any time to respond. “You did get shot, and you got hit in your lower right side. You’ve lost a lot of blood, so you’re in hypovolemic shock right now, which is why you might feel a bit confused, why you might be cold and shaky, and why it’s very important that you keep taking slow, deep breaths. I’m gonna fix it, but you’ve gotta work with me, and trust me, alright?”

“Yeah.” Peter gave a small nod in affirmation.

“Alright.” Tony gave him a tight-lipped smile.

His calm demeanor wasn’t a complete act. As an Avenger, and as a good friend to the war veterans Rhodey, Steve, and Sam, Tony had learned how to triage and treat quite extensively. He could apply field dressings, pop bones back into place, insert an IV, and even set up a blood transfusion; he could keep someone alive. While he couldn’t apply most of that to their current predicament, with this training came the knowledge that he was responsible for whoever’s life was in his hands.

When Sam had first explained this, it had seemed quite daunting, but over time, when Tony actually began applying what he had learned in battle and on missions, the responsibility always put him under a wave of calm. He would always shift into a mindset that he was in complete control, and that he could properly care for whoever it was that needed him.

Now, Peter needed him, more so than any other Avenger had ever needed him before, and Tony’d be damned if he didn’t take care of him like he knew he could. For the time being, the danger was gone, Maxime and his men mountains away. Tony needed to work.

Tony gave a silent _thanks_ to whoever was listening after his nanotech retreated back to its housing device. He hadn’t been sure if it would have after the suit had lost all of its power. He was glad to be tending to Peter with his own hands instead of impersonal metal.

One part of Tony’s first aid training had been on how to treat the patient. For starters, always make sure to explain everything you are doing, or everything you plan on doing.

“Now, normally, I’d give you the onceover to see what we’re dealing with, but we’re gonna take care of the bullet wound first because it’s the most prevalent injury.” Tony was relaying some of the information from his first unit on field injuries. “I’m gonna pull your shirt up a bit, and maybe scooch your pants down some, just to get a good look at it. Okay?” Tony didn’t take his eyes off of the wound.

“Okay.” Peter was trying to get himself in his own mindset. One that entailed of being “anywhere but here”.

Tony moved Peter’s shirt up very gently, mindful that any congealed or dried blood could pull off with the shirt, which would not only be painful, but ruin any work that Peter’s body had done to stop the bleeding. Thankfully, none of the already congealed blood stuck to the shirt.

The new exposure of the wound caused Peter to shiver and tense up.

“Cold.” Peter ground out.

“Sorry about that, Pete. It’s just the shock.” Tony was grateful the sun was out to help keep Peter a little warm, a beautiful day that completely juxtaposed there current predicament.

The wound looked fairly clean, for a bullet wound. The bullet didn’t rip the flesh apart or make any irreparable tissue damage. The bleeding had slowed tremendously, with only a small trail leading down Peter’s side and around his back before dripping off. However, with Peter constantly tensing and relaxing his abdomen in response to the cold, each pulse would push more blood out of the wound.

“Try and relax your stomach for me, bud.” Another point when treating the patient: don’t tell them any more than they need to hear. The patient does not need to hear the gory details, especially when in a severe state of injury. The patient only needs to know what they or their caregiver needs to do.

Peter doesn’t need to know that his constant flexing is causing him to lose blood and preventing the wound from closing. All he needs to know is that he needs to stop.

Peter did his best to follow Tony’s wishes, but the cold, shock, slowly diminishing adrenaline, and fear for more pain was making it tough for him to relax. Once Tony realized that Peter wasn’t going to be able to keep from tensing up, he knew he’d have to help Peter’s body with the blood clotting process.

“You’re doing good. It’s almost stopped bleeding, but I’m gonna help it along a little bit.” Tony kept explaining. “I’m gonna ball up my jacket and put a bit of pressure on it.” Another point when treating the patient: don’t lie. “It’s gonna hurt, but I need you to keep breathing and to not move, okay?”

Peter let out a shaky exhale. They were now at the part that he was so tense about, and absolutely dreading. He’d barely put any pressure on the wound and it had made him scream. Now, Tony could keep the pressure on the wound, whether Peter was screaming or not. “Okay.”

As if Tony could read his thoughts, he spoke. “It’s okay to yell Peter, I don’t think there’s anyone out here. But you do need to keep breathing, and you can’t move my hands, alright.”

“Yeah, just do it.” Peter shut his eyes to brace himself. It was much more difficult when he really couldn’t clench his hands into fists.

Tony didn’t want to prolong Peter’s worry any longer, so he pressed his jacket into the wound. Peter reacted how he had guessed that he would.

Peter let out a sharp yell that broke into a sob. His hands pausing midway from reaching down towards his painful side. He was trying so hard to hang on to Tony’s instructions and not push him away.

“Good, it’s okay. Just keep breathing. I _promise_ it’s going to let up in a second.” Tony noticed that Peter’s hands, which had shot out to stop his ministrations, but fell short, looked to be in horrible shape, with one of the digits off to the side.

_ I”ll have to pop that back in and find out some way to decrease the inflammation. Maybe even- no. Focus on the prevalent injury first, and then proceed to examine and triage the rest of the body,_ Tony ordered himself.

Peter was constantly fidgeting under Tony’s hands, trying to pull in deep breaths that were usually exhaled as sobs. He did notice that the pain was beginning to let up a little. But he could still feel the distinct ice and fire coming from the wound, a sensation that made his skin crawl.

Tony heard Peter mumbling beneath him. “What’s that Pete?”

“I can feel it. Something cold, and something hot. Inside.” Peter tried to explain himself, his words punctuated with heavy gasps.

“You might be feeling the bullet. I know you’re more sensitive than others, and you’re probably just feeling the metal inside of you.” That was Tony’s best guess, and Peter just nodded his head in agreement. Tony knew that Peter didn’t have an exit wound, but he didn’t want to scare the kid talking about removing the bullet before the time came. “I’m gonna check the wound in a few minutes. Just hang tight.”

After eight minutes, Tony slowly pulled the jacket from the wound. With someone other than Peter, he would have waited an additional eight minutes, but Tony wanted to see how active Peter’s healing abilities were at the moment. The bleeding had completely stopped, the dark wound scabbed over with dry, and congealing blood.

“Okay. The bleeding is stopped, but whenever we get to moving, I don’t want it to open again, so I’m gonna tie the jacket on to it.” Tony started looking for whatever he could use to keep the jacket pressed against the wound. He could use his overshirt? He knew he didn’t want to try and remove Peter’s jacket or overshirt due to the pain it would cause and because he needed to keep the kid warm. Then he spotted Peter’s belt.

“Hey Pete, do you mind if I take your belt off?” Tony asked as he started to unbuckle the belt.

“No.” Peter’s breathing had returned to normal, after Tony had removed the pressure from his right side.

Tony easily slid the belt out of the loops, all without having to lift Peter’s waist. Taking a look at the different sizes the belt could shrink to, Tony decided that he would just make a new hole for the belt to snap into. He needed to make the belt as tight as he safely could.

“Alright. So I’m gonna slip this belt underneath you, and tighten it around the jacket okay? It’s gonna hurt again when I apply the pressure, but it’ll stop after a few minutes.” Tony was already weaving the belt underneath Peter, where there was a small space between Peter’s lower back and the ground.

“Yeah.” Peter said quietly, his eyes shut. He was pretty tired now that the pain had stopped.

Another point when treating the patient: repeat yourself. Most field patients are in shock or in a traumatic state of mind, and will miss crucial instructions if only spoken once.

Tony wondered if Peter was losing consciousness. “Hey, Peter. I’m gonna tighten the belt over your wound now. It will hurt. Are you ready?”

Peter opened his eyes, awakened at the promise of pain. “Yes.”

Without any more preamble Tony placed his folded up jacket on the bullet wound and tightened the belt as tight as he could make it.

Peter yelled, and, forgetting his earlier instructions, lashed out, grabbing Tony’s hands.

“Here- wait- Stop! Stop! Peter stop!” Tony tried to get Peter’s hands off without loosening the belt. He knew that Peter had to somewhat be listening to him, based on his lack of use of his inhuman strength, or, he was just too weak to effectively thwart him off. All of the thrashing was dislodging his jacket, and potentially pulling at the wound. “You’ve got to let go!”

Peter couldn’t keep a grip on Tony, his bruised hands and broken pinkie causing him more pain. He could hear Tony yelling at him, but couldn’t really make out what he was saying.

Eventually, the dizzying effects of blood loss caused Peter to lose his fight, and his hands stopped pulling on Tony’s. Peter didn’t, however, pull his hands off.

Peter tipped his head back and started openly crying. “I’m sorry! I didn’t- I thought you said-” Tony pulled on the belt, knowing he needed to finish his work. “Oh God, please stop!”

Tony finally finished tightening the belt, and poked it through the cheap material so it would stay. “Alright! Alright! I’m all done! Just relax, bud. It’s gonna quit in a minute. I know you didn’t mean to. Just relax.”

Now that Tony couldn’t occupy himself with tightening the belt, or applying pressure to the wound, he couldn’t ignore how Peter’s cries tore at him.

Letting Peter’s hands stay atop his own, he started rubbing circles at the center of Peter’s chest, encouraging a healthier breathing pattern and trying to calm him down. “It’s okay. Take some deep breaths Pete.”

Peter tried to calm himself down, hoping that the hard part was over, but still believing there was more pain to come. “Are you done? Is it done?” He asked worriedly.

“I’m done with the bullet wound alright. We’re just gonna take a minute before we look at anything else.” Tony wanted to be comforting, but also wanted to keep Peter in the know.

“Okay. Okay.” Peter calmed significantly after hearing they were done with the bullet wound, doing better to drag in slow breaths. He made sure to keep his eyes open, not wanting a repeat of last time. “I’m sorry that I grabbed you. Don’t really think I was awake when I was talkin’ to you.”

Tony felt bad, knowing it was his responsibility to make sure Peter knew exactly what he was doing. “Yeah, that was my fault. I should have made sure you were more coherent. No more surprises, alright?”

“Yeah.” Peter pulled his hands off of Tony’s now feeling a little awkward about it. Tony didn’t seem to mind and kept one of his hands rubbing soothing circles on his chest, which Peter didn’t object.

After several minutes, Tony knew he needed to keep triaging, so he removed his hand and switched back into his medical mode.

“I’m gonna give you the onceover now, okay?” Tony moved so that he was sitting behind Peter’s head.

“Okay.” Peter didn’t feel the need to tell Tony that he thought he’d popped his left hip out, and that his pinkie finger was broken. Not only did Tony have eyes, Peter knew he would probably be very thorough.

“Just gonna check your, head, neck, and spine first.” Tony started feeling around Peter’s skull, searching for any bumps, cuts or breaks.

The movements of Tony’s fingers almost felt like a massage, until Tony moved towards Peter’s forehead. His hand skimmed over a bruise, causing Peter to let out a small gasp.

“Definitely a bump there. And I can look at your eyes and see you have a concussion, but it doesn’t look too severe.” Tony tried to joke. “You’re pretty hard headed.”

“May’s been wondering where that’s come from. And I’ve hit my head harder before, just not while I was being shot at.” Peter tried to joke back, but gave up halfway through.

Tony was silent, his hands making their way to the back of Peter’s neck. After finding nothing wrong, he slowly started to lift Peter’s back from the ground, being sure to keep him flat. Peter had to stifle some sounds of discomfort, and tried to keep himself from moving out of Tony’s hold.

“Sorry, I’ve just gotta check out your back for a second.” Tony kept Peter off the ground with one hand and used his other hand to trace Peter’s spine. Tony didn’t need an M.D. to know that Peter wasn’t paralyzed or suffering from any spinal cord damage based on the movement from all of his limbs, but broken vertebrae and slipped discs could still be a problem. However, nothing felt out of place.

“Well all of the important stuff is in pretty good condition.” Tony set Peter’s back back down on the ground.

Peter just hummed a sound of acknowledgment.

“I’m gonna check everything else now. Starting with the top.” He brought his hands down Peter’s clavicles, tracing his shoulders, down his arms, all without finding any breaks. Now he was at Peter’s hands.

While he had told Peter he’d be checking everything, he wanted to make sure Peter was aware that checking over his hands would probably be painful. “Can I check your hands out?”

“Yeah.” Peter affirmed, knowing Tony would check his hands anyways.

“It’s gonna hurt a little bit.” Tony reminded.

“I know.” Peter closed his eyes, not in fatigue, but because he didn’t want to look at his disfigured pinkie.

Tony started with the left hand, gently grazing over each knuckle. Peter was able to keep silent through the left hand, despite the deep bruising. Tony moved to his right hand, starting at the palm, and then the thumb and working his way through each finger. Peter’s eyes clenched shut even harder as Tony got closer to his pinkie, and he couldn’t help the whimper that escaped when he finally reached it.

“I think you know I’ve gotta pop it back in.” Tony grabbed the top of the pinkie with one hand, and put the other at the base, right underneath the dislocated knuckle.

Peter just nodded his head.

“I’m gonna do it on the count of three. And I’ll actually do it on three, okay. It’ll be a sharp pain, but should go away really quickly.” Tony tried to comfort him. Normally, Peter would be popping his own dislocated fingers back in without too much of a fuss, but all of the additional pain in his body was playing tricks on his mind, making the situation much worse in his head.

Peter nodded his head again, keeping his eyes shut.

“One, two, three.” Tony shifted the digit back into its rightful place.

Peter hissed in a breath, but the pain did go away very quickly. But, he didn’t think the pain in his hip would go away as quickly as the pain in his pinkie once it got popped back into place.

“See, that wasn’t so bad.” Tony massaged the digit, making sure blood was flowing back into all the right places. “I think everything is just really bruised. Nothing shattered or anything. I wish I could get some ice for them, but we might be up a creek there.”

“They’ll be okay. I won’t need any ice.” Peter knew that his body would be able to heal the bruising in a day or two.

Tony placed his hands at the top of Peter’s ribcage. He gently pressed on each rib as he made his way down, as grateful as Peter was that none of them appeared broken.

“Alright, here’s a really not-painful part. I’m just gonna ask you some questions.” Tony started to work his way back up Peter’s ribs, just double checking.

“Yay.” Peter was genuinely happy to hear that.

“I can’t really get to your lungs through your ribs, so I just wanna know how it feels when you breathe. Any pain? Or wheezing sounds? Stuff like that.” Tony watched Peter’s chest as he breathed and got ready to speak, looking for any abnormalities or intercostal retractions, indicating a blockage or narrowing of a breathing passageway.

“I don’t think so. It’s really just my side bothering me.” _And my hip,_ Peter thought to himself.

“Well then that’s really great. I wouldn’t wanna have to give you one of those DIY chest tubes to keep your lungs working.” Tony returned to his position at Peter’s side. “I’m gonna feel around your stomach real quick.”

Peter tensed immediately, raising his head from the ground. “Wait.”

“Take it easy.” Tony gently pushed Peter’s head back. “I won’t touch your side. I just need to make sure I don’t feel anything abnormal.”

“Abnormal how?” Peter knew Tony was checking for internal bleeding.

“Just abnormal stuff. Like abdominal rigidity. That’s an _involuntary_ tensing of the abdominal muscles to prevent pain from pressure being placed on the abdomen, but I don’t think that’s the case for you. I just want to check.” Tony already had placed his hands just below Peter’s ribcage.

“Okay, yeah. That’s fine.” Peter was fine with whatever Tony was doing, so long as it didn’t involve touching the bullet wound.

Peter grew on edge as Tony got closer to his right side, but Tony kept to his word and didn’t touch it.

“Everything there looks pretty good, all things considering.” Tony began to situate himself at Peter’s legs. “I’m gonna start examining your legs now, and then, we’ll take a break, and then, find some shelter. Sound good?”

“Good.” Peter could feel himself getting worked up again as Tony announced he would eventually be looking at his hip.

Tony noticed the change in Peter’s demeanor as his breathing picked up slightly. He tried not to sound too concerned, but he was serious when telling Peter that he needed to try and keep calm. Hypovolemic shock was a cause for emergency medical treatment, and Tony was all Peter had at the moment.

Tony placed his hands at the top of Peter’s right leg and slowly began working his way down, looking for breaks. “How we doing, bud? Still taking deep breaths?”

“Uhm a-actually,” Peter stuttered, “Mr. Stark, I think I popped my left hip out.” The admittance made Peter’s nerves grow.

“Okay, that’s good to know.” Tony was now at Peter’s right foot. “But I’m not there yet, so don’t work yourself up over it, okay? We’re gonna fix it. I’m gonna take care of it.”

“Okay.” Peter really didn’t understand why, but Tony’s calm demeanor was really having a positive effect on him. He knew he was in an extremely dangerous, and possibly deadly situation, but Tony just seemed to make it okay. It’s not like Tony could make the pain disappear, but he made Peter believe that he could handle it.

Tony slowly made his way up from Peter’s left foot, stopping at his hip. “I’ll be a little more extensive with this hip than I was with the other one, okay.” Tony’s tone had switched from “asking” to “telling”.

Peter closed his eyes. “Okay.” He could do this.

“Don’t think I’m coppin’ a feel, kid. Just trying to check it out.” Tony dug his fingers in pretty deep, trying to locate the ball and socket joint.

Peter’s back arched slightly into the air at the very strong ache, and a gasp escaped him.

_It’s fine. I can do this. I can do this. Mr. Stark would tell you to breathe. So just breathe. He’s gonna pop it back in, and it’ll hurt, but then it’ll get better. It’ll hurt, but then it’ll get better. It’ll hurt, but then it’ll- Oh God it was gonna hurt._

Tony had stopped moving his hands. “Hey Peter.”

_This is it._ Peter scrunched his eyes shut tighter. “What?”

“I don’t think you popped your hip out, bud.” Tony almost sounded like he was smiling. “So just calm down.”

Peter lowered his back. “But I heard it.”

“I think you popped it back in.” Tony was definitely smiling now.

“Really? Are you sure?” The moment it happened, all Peter had known was _Pop!_ and pain.

“I could pull your pants down a little and show you the bruising, and not dislocated-ness of your hip, but I think we could do without that.” Peter gave Peter a clap on the shoulder. “So you got the hard part over with all by yourself."

Peter sighed in relief. One less thing to worry himself over.

“Like I said, let’s take a breather.” Tony positioned himself back at Peter’s feet. “I’m gonna elevate your legs to help with the shock, okay.”

More telling, Peter noted. “Okay.”

The movement pulled some of the tendons and ligaments in his hip, but Peter found as soon as he relaxed his leg, the pain went away.

“Don’t fall asleep.” Tony cautioned.

“I won’t.” Peter did close his eyes, finally able to relax into the soft grass.

A few seconds or a few minutes may have gone by before Peter spoke what both of them had been thinking. “What are we going to do?”

\---------------------------

“They’re out there somewhere! We have to find them!”

“Are you mad?! Did you see what Stark’s suit did? Even with little to no power it nearly blew us all to hell!”

“But it was losing power! He’s probably stranded out there with the nearest town hundreds of miles away!”

“Do you think that kid was still alive?”

“Nah, I shot him right up his nose! Stark’s probably cleaning his brains off of his suit!”

“We should still send a party to retrieve them!”

“Well count me out! I’ve got burns all over my-”

“If you whine about your ass one more time I’ll go right up it!”

“They were heading west! They’re only a couple of days away, and they can’t have gotten far if the little one is wounded!”

“I already told you, the freaky climber’s dead!”

Maxime just stared ahead at the table of the mountainside bunker, barely listening to the bickering. He was not worried. He had a plan. Whether his men were capable enough to follow his orders or not, he would finish what he had started. Hail Hydra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun writing the whump, and there's so much more to come! AHHHHHHH! Maybe it's a problem how much I enjoyed writing the whump? I hope you enjoyed reading it!  
-WithACherryOnTop
> 
> I didn't get to edit this because WithACherryOnTop wanted it to be a surprise. You all get to roast her when you find mistakes.  
-Just_the_Editor


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I'm sorry. I know it's been a long while. Sometimes I forget that not everybody gets to read what I'm writing until I post. I've been writing this chapter since early December, and I didn't get stuck with writer's block, but I just couldn't seem to find the motivation to write through certain points of the chapter. Plus, I've got a few more more important priorities at the moment. I hope you guys like this one.  
-WithACherryOnTop
> 
> Every day I ask, "Are you going to write today? Please write today!"  
-Just_the_Editor

“What are we going to do?”

What were they going to do?

Tony worried his lip, his mind racing._ I bet we’ve only got two or three days tops before Maxime finds us, maybe even less if he brings his calvary. Shelter. F.R.I.D.A.Y’s down and there’s no way for us to contact Fury. Shelter. Is Peter going to be able to carry his own weight? Shelter. We’ve still got to get that bullet out. Shelter. What’s the temperature drop down to here at night? Shelter._

“Well, I think the most important thing to do is to get us to some shelter of some kind. I bet it gets pretty chilly here at night.” Tony glanced at the tree line.

“Build a fire?” Peter wondered.

“I don’t want to attract any unwanted attention. Actually, when we were flying over, I think I saw an abandoned looking house on the other side of that tree line there.” Tony paused. “Maybe we could hike it over there.” Tony was looking at Peter’s face, trying to gauge his reaction to the no-doubt difficult trek.

Peter set his mouth into a tight line before he spoke. “Do you think they’re looking for us?”

That was not the response Tony was expecting. Clearly, Peter was more worried about their general well-being, and the enemy, instead of his own critical wounds.

However, Tony couldn’t just dodge the question. He dropped his gaze. “Probably.”

With his blood now flowing better through his body, Peter’s head was starting to clear and he could feel that some of his strength was returning. With that strength came a spark of anger.

Carefully, without using his abdominal muscles, Peter started to prop himself on to his elbows. “Mr. Stark, they knew who we were before we even arrived.”

Tony didn’t move from Peter’s legs. “Peter, lay down.”

Peter ignored him, his anger growing. “They said their ‘How do you do?’’s and spit out their sob stories. Made me actually feel sorry for them! All the while, they were just waiting to catch us off guard! So they could kill us? Capture us? _Torture_ us?!”

“Peter, _lay down._” Tony was commanding now.

Now, Peter just ranted to himself. “They’re probably building nuclear weapons right now, and on their way to finish us off with them. I should have sensed something going on. God, how could I be so _stupid?!_”

“Peter!” Tony lowered Peter’s legs, maybe a little less gently than he would have had his own frustration not been rising. “I don’t want to hear it right now! Yes, they knew who we were. Yes, they lied to us. Yes, they’re probably on their way right now. And no. You’re not stupid when_ I’m_ the one who should have known something was wrong! But kid, you are stupid to think that you can just-”

“I’m not a kid! I can handle-” Peter started.

“Handle what? A gunshot wound?! You may not be a kid but you are by no means an adult! You’re just a firecracker adolescent who thinks they’re invincible! Look at yourself!” Tony threw his hands up in exasperation.

Tears sprang to Peter’s eyes, but not from any pain. He feigned agreement to Tony’s words. “Yup, just some naive, wide-eyed teenager who thinks they can take on the world. But do most high schoolers fight battles on alien planets during their field trips? Or die in the arms of their teachers? Or have ‘symptoms of PTSD’ saved in their search history?”

Tony’s heart involuntarily twinged anytime Peter brought up the horrors that came with his life as an Avenger. The job brought many hardships that no person should ever have to witness, let alone a child.

However, Tony knew the direness of their situation, and needed to make sure that Peter’s only priority was his health.

While Tony’s eyes may have betrayed him, he kept his face hard. “I don’t care about that right now! You’re not most teenagers! Peter, you’ve got a hole in your-”

Peter interrupted, the angry tears starting to fall. “Right! I’m not a teenager, I’m not a kid, and I’m not an adult! But I am an Avenger, and Avengers do whatever it takes to save everyone! They could be planning to blow up the Compound right now, or the Sanctum, or the world! And you, the one who was down on his knees, ready to leave all of us for the greater good, want to sit here and play doctor.”

“How dare you.” Tony’s mind flashed with pictures of Yinsen, Pietro, Natasha, and even himself, with the gauntlet glowing on his hand.

Tony’s enraged tone genuinely startled Peter, but he was adamant to get his point across. “How dare I? How dare them!”

“Fine, what’s your plan, huh? We can’t just barge in, with guns we don’t have, looking for revenge, while you’re nursing some God-awful infection.” Tony paused, his brow raised. “Well, I’m listening?”

Peter stayed silent, scrunching his eyes shut and turning his face away, trying to keep his emotions in check. Truth be told, he didn’t have a plan. All he knew was that they still needed to complete their mission, and it seemed that completing the mission entailed taking down Hallstatt.

Tony took a deep breath and sat back on his heels. “Listen Peter, I get it, I do. But you need help right now. I mean, aren’t you worried?”

“I’m _terrified!_” Peter broke his silence with a barked sob. Peter really was scared, but he thought he could distract himself from himself if he stayed focused on the mission. He’d done it many times before: Coney Island, Titan, the battle at the Compound.

Before Peter could say anymore, his elbows gave out, and he crashed on to his back in a coughing fit. Every cough and gasp pulled horribly on his side, so he reached his hand down to the covered wound, an unconscious effort to take the pain away.

“Here, don’t mess with that Pete.” Tony leaned over and took both of Peter’s hands in his own, and tried to coach him through the fit.

It just seemed to make Peter more upset, and he started to cry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean- I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t apologize bud. I shouldn’t have said what I said.” Tony did feel bad. All Peter was trying to do was tough it out, and be “better”, like Tony had asked of him, when he was already more than what Tony had even thought of himself.

“We have to stop them. Please. We have to stop them.” Peter started up a new mantra.

“We will, alright. We will.” _But first, we need to get you taken care of,_ Tony said to himself.

\--------------------------------------

By the time Peter’s tear tracks had dried to his face, both of the heros had gained their bearings.

Tony set both of Peter’s hands on the ground, at his sides. “I think our next move should be to get to that house across the tree line.”

Peter kept his gaze fixed at the sky. “Okay.”

“If I help, do you think you can walk?” The question sounded hesitant. Tony honestly didn’t know if he could carry Peter very far, at least, not without the help of a powered suit, and, after a few taps on his chest piece, it was clear that Tony’s tech was down for good.

Peter let out a deep sigh. The idea of getting up and walking sounded like absolute agony, but he didn’t like the weakness it showed of him if Tony had to carry him. He would have to tough it out. “Yeah.”

Tony positioned himself behind Peter’s head. “I’m gonna sit you up buddy. Don’t tense up your muscles. Just let me do the work.”

Peter nodded as Tony got his hands underneath his shoulders, and began to raise him up. He stayed quiet throughout the maneuvering, but couldn’t conceal a wince when he was at a ninety degree angle, and his left hip flexor was pulled.

Tony didn’t miss it. “You good?”

“Yeah. Just my hip.” Peter answered.

Tony gave Peter’s shoulders a comforting squeeze. “That’s to be expected, I guess. You could have damaged a lot of cartilage, or maybe even some ligaments. It’s not too bad though, right?”

“Not really.” Peter lied.

Peter really doubted that he’d be able to put much weight on the leg at all. Anytime the leg was bent, he could feel the pull in his lower abs, but anytime the leg was straight, he could feel an ache in the socket. No position was comfortable.

“Okay, if I’ve got you under the arms, and you keep all of your weight on your right leg, do you think you can stand?” Tony got off of his knees and into a crouch, getting ready to lift.

“Yeah, I think so.” Peter bent his right leg, preparing to stand.

“Alright.” Tony scooped his arms under Peter’s armpits. “On three, okay?”

“A-huh.” Peter braced himself.

“One, two, three.” Tony stood up, taking Peter with him.

While Peter was able to keep his right leg underneath him to push himself up, his left leg dragged on the ground on the way. The motion was quick, but painful, causing Peter to cry out.

“Alright, alright. We’re up.” Tony didn’t move from behind Peter, and kept his arms underneath him.

“Okayokayokay.” Peter tried to collect himself, but with the pain, and the concussion, the sudden verticalness slammed him with a wave of vertigo.

The dizzying effects made Peter scrunch his eyes closed, and briefly mis-step onto his left leg, in order to stay balanced. He felt a sharp stab of pain as the leg buckled. Peter screamed.

“_Shit!_” Tony nearly stumbled to the ground as he took all of Peter’s weight. However, he knew he couldn’t let Peter back down, or he might not ever get up. He quickly turned Peter around, mindful of his left leg, and pulled him into his chest.

Peter clasped his arms behind Tony, an effort to not fall.

“Don’t worry, I’ve gotcha.” Tony straightened, bringing his hands to Peter’s upper and lower back in an effort to hold and steady him.

Tony could feel Peter shaking, and quickly felt tears bleeding through the front of his shirt as Peter hid his face. “It’s alright, Pete. Take deep breaths.” Tony sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was cause Peter more pain, but it was a necessary evil in order for them to survive.

Upon the feeling of having a knife stabbed in his hip, and a fire poker and icicle stabbed into his side, Peter came to the conclusion that he probably couldn’t fight off Maxime and his men, much less walk.

Peter felt defeated, and, as much as he hated to admit it, afraid to endure the trip to the potential shelter. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can’t- I can’t do this.” Peter shook his head, mumbling into Tony’s chest.

“Yes, you can Peter.” _Because I couldn’t live with myself if you can’t,_ Tony added to himself. “I’m gonna help you, okay? We’re gonna take it slow.”

Peter made no acknowledgement that he’d heard Tony, but his crying had stopped shaking his frame.

They didn’t move for several minutes, until Peter finally pulled his face from Tony’s chest and spoke. “How slow?”

“First, I just want you to get used to putting a little bit of weight on that leg.” Tony shifted both of his hands so that they rested at Peter’s lower back. “Piece o’ cake, right?”

“Yeah, okay.” Peter brought his hands from behind Tony’s back, used one to scrub away any remaining tears from his face, and then gripped Tony’s shoulders, trying to take more of his own weight.

Peter kept his head down, his eyes trained on his feet as he slowly shifted from side to side. It didn’t take much weight at all for Peter to feel that stabbing pain, but he forced himself to handle it.

Tony knew that he had told Peter that they would take it slow, but he also knew that they needed to get moving soon. He tried to “help” Peter out by rocking him to the left and to the right, trying to force Peter to add a little more weight to the left leg and to hold it longer each time. Whenever it became too much, Peter let him know with a tight squeeze to his shoulders, and Tony would back off for a few seconds before continuing the rocking again.

After a few minutes, Peter finally met Tony’s gaze. “I think I’ve got it.”

“Alright, Underoos.” Tony smiled. “Let’s get moving.”

\---------------------------------

“_Please!_ Stop!”

“I _know_ Peter! But we can’t keep stopping!” Tony was beyond frustrated. Definitely not at Peter, but at his rapidly failing health.

They had only been an hour into their search for shelter when cramps began attacking Peter’s right side and lower abdomen. Peter had tried to feign that they weren’t bothering him, but several minutes later, he had collapsed on the ground, trying desperately to grab his stomach, but unable to because of his wound.

After the episode ended, and after a short break, Tony was better prepared to help Peter deal with the nearly incapacitating pain.

Now, after another three hours, half a dozen stops, and four more series of cramps, another set hit right as they reached the tree line.

Currently, Peter was hunched over, doing everything in his power to try and work his way to the ground, where he wouldn’t feel any better, but where he wanted to be anyways. However, with Tony at his side, and his left arm wrapped around Tony’s neck and shoulders, he wasn’t very successful.

Tony kept a grip on Peter’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, trying to keep the kid from going down. Even on his knees, Tony kept trying to straighten and stand up, in order to keep Peter from caving in on himself. “Peter! That’s not going to help! You’ve got to stretch it out or it’s going to keep hurting!”

In the back of his mind, Peter knew Tony was right, but instinctively, curling up felt like it would ease the pain. “Stop it!” Peter blindly flailed his right arm, trying to push Tony away, but another sharp cramp caused him to clutch on to his mentor and pull him close. “Please! What- why is it- Why’s it hurt so much?!” Peter’s voice cracked.

Tony was finding it more and more difficult to remain calm and appear in control. “I don’t know!” He really didn’t. He wasn’t a doctor, and he had no idea if the bullet was doing some sort of irreparable damage to Peter’s abdominal muscles or nerves or whatever that would be causing the cramps.

What he did think that he knew was that the longer the bullet stayed inside Peter’s body, the worse he would become. However, he couldn’t remove the bullet until they were at a more sheltered location, and they couldn’t reach shelter because of Peter’s bullet wound. It was a vicious cycle.

Peter’s ragged breathing was what finally caused Tony to unwrap Peter’s arm from his shoulders and lower him to the ground, where he immediately sprawled out onto his left side. The pain in his hip barely registered in comparison to his stomach.

Tony crouched at Peter’s back, in case he needed to keep Peter from rolling over on to his stomach. “Alright, it’s fine. We’ll just wait it out and keep going.”

“No.” Peter said through clenched teeth.

Tony didn’t reply, assuming it was the pain talking, but as the pain began to lift, Peter wasn’t finished. “Tony. I _can’t_. . . do this.” While Peter had tried to stay stoic, hours of walking, cramping, nearly vomiting, and Tony dragging him up from the ground were cracking through his very weak walls.

Tony could see the frustration growing in Peter’s face, and he tried to placate him. “I know you can buddy. We’re already halfway there. Slow your breathing down.”

Tony brought a hand up to rub Peter’s shoulder, but Peter smacked it away. Tony’s constant encouragement was also starting to make him irritable. It tore at Peter’s heart to not accomplish what his mentor believed was capable of him. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes. I do, Peter. I think I can even see that house from here.” Tony looked back through the thin line of trees. They really were almost there. Probably even more than halfway.

“Mr. Stark, I can’t keep moving. . . like this.” Many of Peter’s phrases were punctuated with pants. “Something’s really wrong.”

The cramps weren’t normal. As Spider-Man, whenever he strained himself too much, Peter knew what a cramp felt like. It was a constant tightening and untightening of his muscle, but these cramps were something else. Not only was the clenching and unclenching of his muscles present, but so was a hot and cold feeling.

Tony could obviously see Peter’s worsening condition, but he didn’t want to scare him with it. While both of them were drenched in sweat, Tony was perspiring from fatigue, and Peter, with pain, fever, and exhaustion.

Peter’s complexion had become even paler as well, making Tony worry that he was bleeding internally, or that the wound had opened up. “I know, but I’m gonna fix it. Can I take a look at it?”

Peter carefully shifted on to his back. It’s not like he really had a choice, and Tony really was trying to help him, after all, even if it hurt.

Tony pulled up the side of the jacket, not wanting to loosen the belt, and what he saw confirmed his fears. There was blood leaking out of Peter’s side, and beginning to stain through the jacket.

“How’s it look?” Peter could feel the blood dripping down his side.

“Well, like I said, you can’t keep moving.” Tony let out a shaky laugh.

“Told you.” Peter couldn’t look at Tony as he tried to blink away his watery eyes.

Tony gently covered the wound with the jacket again as he tried to figure out some options for them. _Can I carry him? No, I’d probably pass out and crush him. Can I just take care of him here? No, I haven’t really got a first aid kid, or any tools with me. That house is probably our best bet. But if he keeps moving he’ll bleed out._ Tony stiffened as he realized what their only option was.

Peter noticed the shift in Tony’s demeanor. “What?”

“I’ve got an idea,” Tony answered, “but I don’t really like it.”

Peter hadn’t come up with anything himself, so he was all ears. “What?”

“I was thinking that maybe I could check out the house myself. Look for some supplies, or a first aid kit, and then come back to help you.” As he said his plan aloud, the more Tony disliked it. “But I don’t really want to leave you here on your own.”

“Mr. Stark, I can’t walk. I think that’s our only choice.” Peter nodded his head. “And I’ll be okay. There’s no one here. I haven’t seen any animals. I’ll be fine.”

Tony glanced back at the direction of the house, and then back to Peter. “Alright, but I’ve got some rules while I’m gone. Okay?”

“Okay.” Peter tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace.

“Don’t move. Don’t mess with the jacket. Do _not_ fall asleep.” Tony listed his rules slowly, as they were important. “Repeat them.”

“Don’t move, mess up the jacket, or pass out.” Peter relayed.

“Good.” Tony stood up. “I’m going to be as quick as I can, alright.”

“Yeah, I’ll be here.” Peter kept saying the rules in his head, to give himself something to focus on.

Tony started towards the end of the treeline, trying not to look back, when he remembered something.

“Wait a minute.” Peter jumped at Tony’s quick return, as he had been trying to zone out from his pain. “I’m gonna elevate your legs again so you don’t get too shocky on me.”

“Yeah, okay.” Peter’s body was completely compliant with Tony’s maneuvering.

Tony stepped back to see if the old tree log he had found would keep Peter’s legs elevated, and thankfully, it did.

“Great, okay. I’m gonna leave now. Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Tony was very reluctant.

“Yes. I’ve got my jacket. Got my rules. And I’ve got my log. I’ll be fine.” Peter brought a shaky hand up to wave Tony off.

“Alright, I’ll be back.” Tony turned and headed through the trees.

\--------------------------------

As tired as he was, Tony hurried to the house as fast as he could. Crossing through the line of trees, there was a short drop off that revealed a substantial creek. With it being the Summer, many of the mountains’ ice and snow was melting, or had already melted, so the water was flowing pretty quickly. While the source of water was promising for Peter’s recovery, there was no way that he would be able to cross it in his current condition.

Tony waded across, the water never rising above his knees, and climbed the short, but steep embankment._ I’ll have to find somewhere that’s less steep, so I can get him across._

Past the creek, Tony was grateful that the foliage wasn’t very thick, and he could walk without tripping over bushes and vines. A couple of thorns snagged at his pants, and scraped across his arms, but other than that, the path was clear.

Finally, after breaking through the tree line, Tony saw the house. However, upon closer inspection, it looked more like a barn, or maybe even a stable. It was rustic and weathered, with some of the shingles hanging off, several broken windows, and a door, looking to be barely hanging on to its hinges.

While Tony had been hoping to have some amenities, like a fireplace, a bed, and a medicine cabinet, he was glad that he wouldn’t have to worry about any people living in the barn. He could only pray that there wasn’t any livestock inhabiting it.

He tried to stay out of view of the windows, moving as stealthily as he could to the front door. Without his suit, Tony wasn’t defenceless, but it had been a few months since he’d bounced around the ring, boxing with Happy.

With his back to the door, Tony took a deep breath, and then snuck inside the small opening. He quickly crouched down behind an old storage crate, surveying his surroundings.

It was very dark inside, the only light coming from the small spaces created by the warping wood. A couple of empty stalls with a single 2x4 wooden plank serving as gates were on the left side. To the right was an old, dusty table with cabinets underneath it. While it didn’t have any clamps attached to it, or a buzz saw incorporated into it, it was most likely used for building woodwork and doing small mechanical repairs. Littered across the walls were rusted old tools: hammers, hoes, shovels, a wrench, even a scythe. The ground was covered in old, mildewy straw, and it gave the barn a musty odor. In the far back corner was a small area of concrete. Tony, realizing he was in fact alone, went over to investigate.

The whole area dipped in the middle, where a small drain was. There was a small table, several hooks hanging from the rafters above, and an array of knives pegged up on the wall. With the whole surface of the ground being a dark, brownish-red, it appeared that this was some sort of butcher’s barn. However, with the barn so dusty, and the dried blood so ancient, it was definitely abandoned.

Tony breathed a sigh of relief. This was exactly what he and Peter needed: a place to stay, away from the elements, a table where Peter could rest, and some tools to help Tony fix him up.

As Tony searched for things he could use to build Peter some form of transportation, he walked past a ladder. It stretched up, all the way to an attic that he hadn’t noticed. Carefully, somewhat concerned about the stability of the ladder, Tony climbed his way up.

In the attic was more straw, some coiled up rope, and two kerosene lamps, each only about halfway full. Grabbing both the rope and the lamps, Tony made his way back down.

_ Maybe I could take this ladder down, take the rope, and help tie him on the ladder, and drag it like a stretcher._ As Tony thought about ways to get Peter to the barn with the least amount of movement possible, he eyed an old wheelbarrow in one of the stalls. Tony placed the lanterns and rope by the work table, dipped underneath the 2x4, and grabbed the wheelbarrow’s handles.

As_ he pulled, a gray tabby shot out from underneath the barrow, hissing it’s way out of the stall and out the front door. _

_Whatever, she can find a new home._ Tony kept pulling the barrow out, nearly knocking his head against the 2x4 on his way out.

_Alright Peter. You better still be awake when I get back._

\----------------------------------

“Dammit.”

Peter jumped, startled by Tony’s sudden return. “What?”

“Oh, sorry, bud. I thought you were konked out. Your eyes were shut.” Tony’s voice was a bit strained, but relieved.

“Nah, I was just resting my eyes.” Peter turned his head to look at Tony. “No. What is that?”

“A wheelbarrow. What’s it look like?” Tony stopped right alongside Peter.

“I’m not getting in that thing.” To Tony’s surprise, Peter sounded annoyed.

“Oh, you certainly are. It’s practical.” Tony crossed his arms. “Sorry there was no car to hot wire, but what I found was a barn, not a house.”

“Great. ‘S just what I need right now. A bunch of horses.” Peter huffed.

“Well we’re in luck there, because there’s nothing in it.” Tony moved behind Peter. “I’m gonna help you get up and in the barrow, alright.”

“Mr. Stark. Seriously? I’m doing better now, I think. And I haven’t cramped up, and the bleeding’s stopped, and I’ve rested up a bit. I don’t think that that thing is necessary.” Peter’s cheeks were flushed pink. He was pretty humiliated to go from someone who could swing through the city to someone who had to ride in a wheelbarrow.

“Peter, there’s nothing embarrassing about needing a little assistance. You’ve been in a wheelchair before, and this is just like a wheelchair, minus one wheel. And seriously, this was the most practical way I could think to move you. Plus, even if the cramping and bleeding has stopped, you’ve still got one helluva fever, and we don’t want the cramps and bleeding to start up again. If it were me who was hurt, and you didn’t have your powers, you wouldn’t hesitate with this genius idea.” Tony grinned. “Plus, I dragged this thing out here, and nearly pulled my everything, and I’m not gonna drag it back without you in it.”

“Fine.” Peter reluctantly agreed.

“Excellent. Now, I’m gonna pick you up like the first time, okay.” Tony scooped his arms underneath Peter’s.

“Yep. Ready.” Peter, having had to fall and get back up a lot lately, was used to this arrangement now.

Peter was vertical without any problems, other than another strong wave of vertigo causing him to close his eyes and rest his head back on Tony’s shoulder for a few seconds.

“I’m gonna put my arm under your knees, pick you up, and put you in.” Tony started to move his arms.

“You don’t have to, I can just step in.” Peter offered.

“No. I don’t want you moving.” Tony was stern. “I’ve got it, alright.”

“Okay.” Peter didn’t want to put in the effort to argue.

Tony picked Peter up and gently set him in the wheelbarrow with his feet resting up on the side near the handles. It was the best way that Tony could keep an eye on him. Peter grit his teeth throughout, grateful to keep any sounds of pain to himself, for the most part.

“Is that comfortable-ish?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Peter blushed hard. He still couldn’t believe the nature of this. _Why couldn’t that house have had an ATV, or car or something?_

“Alright, let’s move out.” Tony grabbed the handles, having to readjust his grip with how much heavier the teenager made the barrow, and started to push.

\-------------------------------

_“Finally!”_ Tony collapsed next to the wheelbarrow.

“Mr. Stark, are you okay?” Peter peered to the side. His mentor had been taking care of him, and Peter realized that Tony could have some injuries of his own. “Were you okay after the crash?”

“I’m fine Pete. Just exhausted and maybe a little bruised, but nothing I can’t handle.” Tony was sweating and breathing hard, the late afternoon sun very unforgivable.

Tony had had to go a pretty long way down the creek to find a less steep embankment, and all of the little dips and holes in the field made pushing the heavy wheelbarrow even more difficult. Plus, Tony was trying to keep Peter from jostling around too much.

Peter had remained quiet throughout the trek, lost in his own thoughts. He had silently decided that he wouldn’t be telling Tony that he had disobeyed the rule about leaving the jacket alone. He also wouldn’t tell him about the little black masses he saw come out of the wound. They were just thick clots of blood after all, or that’s what Peter told himself to believe.

“Phew. Alright, I’m good.” Tony stood from the ground and wiped his hands off on his pants. “Let’s get you inside.”

Tony squeezed the barrow through the door, then closed it the best he could._ Maybe, once we get situated enough, I can fix it._ Even though they were in the middle of nowhere, Tony still felt better with a closed door.

Tony then moved the barrow over to the work table. “I’m gonna set you up there, alright.”

“Yeah.” Peter lifted his arms up, knowing the drill.

It was a bit of an awkward lift and placement, scooping Peter out of the barrow, but the two made it work. Soon enough, Peter was stretched out on the table. Tony was glad that the table was long enough to fit all five feet and eight inches of the teenager, and that none of Peter’s limbs were hanging off.

Now that they were sheltered, Peter was struck with a wave of fear, and it must have shown on his face because Tony gave him a small smile.

“I think you know that we’ve got to get that bullet out now.” Tony put a hand on Peter’s forehead, both to comfort him and to check his fever.

“I guess.” Peter tried to not think too hard about all that that entailed.

“And once we do, you’ll be on your way to feeling like a million spacebucks.” Tony was glad that the _Spaceballs_ reference managed to make Peter smile just a little bit. He gave Peter’s forehead a pat before he started rifling through the many drawers underneath the work table. _There’s got to be some sort of first aid kit here somewhere._

“Mr. Stark?” Peter’s voice was quiet.

Tony made a sound of acknowledgement at the back of his throat. He eyed a pair of tweezers, hidden underneath old, bent nails and rusty screws.

“A-are you uhm.” Peter swallowed. “Are you gonna tie me down?” Peter had seen the old rope lying against the table before he’d been deposited on the table, but he hadn’t been trying to piece together any puzzles until now.

Tony shut the drawer, keeping the tweezers from Peter’s view. “Peter, look at me.”

Slowly, Peter met Tony’s eyes. Tony could see that they were watery.

“I’m not going to tie you down, alright. I hadn’t planned to. I just found that rope and thought it might be something to keep around, just like those lanterns.” Tony watched some of Peter’s muscles relax at the information. “This isn’t going to be fun, and I’ll probably have to do things that you won’t like, but I would never make you feel out of control, or vulnerable like that.”

“Yeah, okay.” Peter nodded his head, trying to duck it away.

Tony moved his head to force eye contact. “Just like earlier, we’re gonna take it slow.”

“Mm-hm.” Peter closed his eyes, unable to see Tony watch him breakdown. He didn’t know if he was crying because he thought he was dying, or because he was so happy and relieved to hear that he wouldn’t be tied down.

Tony, understanding that Peter wanted to be alone, continued searching through the drawers, giving Peter what little privacy he could. He also thought it best to keep most of his findings to himself, so Peter wouldn’t get scared, or get the wrong idea. He then searched the walls, and the rest of the main floor of the barn, hoping for a real first aid kid.

At the end, Tony had found some tweezers, a box of matches, several bottles of whiskey, each at different stages of fullness, a bucket, a fishing hook and fishing line, and some rags. He could work with more, but he’d worked with less.

With all of his supplies in the bucket, Tony replaced the wheelbarrow with a tall wooden stool he had seen, and set the pail on top of it.

The sound of the bucket and all of its contents made Peter jump. He couldn’t control his body tensing up, bracing himself for the upcoming ordeal.

Tony bent down so he was eye level with the table. “Here, Pete, calm down. I’m not doing anything yet.” Tony rubbed his hand up and down Peter’s arm, stopping at the shoulder.

“Sorry, I can’t help it.” Peter rubbed any tears off of his face. “I’m scared.”

He hated to admit it out loud. “I know you are, and that’s okay. I’m not gonna lie, this is going to hurt, but I’m gonna help you get through it, just like earlier. Do you believe me?” Tony searched Peter’s gaze.

“I do.” Tony was shocked by the amount of trust in Peter’s eyes.

Even after all of the pain he had caused him, Peter still had faith in him. Peter’s affirmation hit Tony with a wave of emotion that he tried to hide by squeezing Peter’s shoulder. “Atta boy.”

Tony rose, and walked to the butchering corner, where he would find his last tool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, their little argument might seem out of place, but I just kind of relayed it back to Far From Home, where after Happy patches Peter up, he gets really agitated (I LOVE THAT SCENE!!!!!).  
Not sure how I felt about the chapter. There were some moments where I was like "Oooo, is that too OOC?", but I'm not not proud of it, so I posted it.  
Hope you all enjoyed, and an update will come much much sooner than last time.  
_WithACherryOnTop
> 
> P.S. I have no idea how long this story is going to be. I outlined it way back when in August, and it was only supposed to be seven chapters. However, what I've written from said outline has only encompassed everything all the way through chapter 3ish. We've got a ways to go, but maybe the chapters will start getting shorter? I don't know.
> 
> I want more whump!!! But it is coming y'all! Trust me, I've seen the outline.  
-Just_the_Editor


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while, but at least it wasn't as long as last time! I hope you guys enjoy it!  
-WithACherryOnTop

Maxime rose from the head of the table, and all of the bickering men immediately quieted down. He slowly stepped to the front of the room, where a large map of Hallstatt and some of the land surrounding it was taped to the bunker’s rocky wall.

“The speed and direction in which Tony’s suit was moving, in addition to the rate in which the suit’s energy was dropping, would put the both of them approximately twenty six to thirty two miles northwest.” Maxime pointed to an area on the map.

“Sir, isn’t that near old Jean’s farm?” One man asked.

“Correct. And, if the oldtimer hasn’t offed himself already, he’s most likely given Tony Stark and Peter Parker refuge.” Maxime spoke with authority. He truly felt that both heros were still alive, knowing the firing accuracy of his men, and as long as they were alive, his goals were incomplete.

“What is your plan Commander Roth?” A different man asked.

“While the exiled has not given reason in the past for extermination, assisting enemies of the village is cause for Jean’s immediate termination.” Maxime let his statement carry throughout the room, examining his men’s reactions. After all, several years ago, many of these men had been playing cards with Jean Pruett.

Jean was an older man, born into a farmer’s family during the throes of World War II. While many of the villagers of Hallstatt bowed under Hydra, Jean’s father escaped with his wife and young son, evading the dangerous occupation of manufacturing nuclear weapons.

When Jean was six, after living several years in a ramshackled house, the war ended, and the Pruett’s returned to Hallstatt. While many of the villagers felt ashamed that they had not resisted against Hydra, Jean’s father was not one to pass judgment on others. Shortly after returning, the Pruett’s were one of the most highly respected families in all of Hallstatt.

As years passed, the Pruett farm grew, providing Hallstatt with nearly all of it’s horses, cattle, and livestock. Jean had even married, he and his wife taking over the family business after Jean’s parents both died of pneumonia.

Unfortunately, Jean’s wife died during the birth of their only child, Elliott. Jean grieved hard, and for many years, while Elliott kept up the farm, the village rarely saw him.

Jean finally emerged when Maxime Roth self-declared himself as the village’s leader. With Maxime’s motives and plans, Jean quickly distrusted him, and the two would butt heads about anything and everything, especially when Maxime proposed the village return to mining like they had during the war.

Jean was exiled from Hallstatt after having been found to have caused the very mining accident that killed his own son. While there was little to no evidence, no one stood up to Maxime, who confirmed that the accident was a direct sabotage against him.

Jean fled to the old ramshackle house that his parents had built. Maxime knew that Jean was not a threat, and allowed for him to stay there, but would still send out annual patrols to make sure that the depressed alcoholic wasn’t conspiring anything.

Periodically, Hallstatt secretly sent men to give Jean supplies, as no one could really abandon the Pruetts. A couple of Jean’s closest friends even stayed a few days to help build the man a slaughterhouse, so he could provide for himself during the winter months. While Jean had been grateful for the gift and the company, he, along with the rest of Hallstatt, never saw the two men again.

It was for that reason that none of the men dared reveal their conflict with Maxime’s plan.

“I will lead the party. We leave before sunrise.” Maxime eyed the group of men he would be taking. Many were of his own family tree-- a couple of cousins and a half-brother--, and a few were younger men who he knew would obey a commander of Hydra’s every order.

“Yes Commander Roth!” The whole room chorused.

\-----------------------------------

After emptying the pail’s contents out on the table at Peter’s feet, Tony sat on the stool, grabbed one of the half-empty bottles, and examined the label. It was handwritten, on some peeled back painter’s tape, only saying “GOOD STUFF”. Tony knew it was whiskey based on the smell, but it was obvious this wasn’t the Pappy Van Winkle Bourbon Whiskey he was used to. This was moonshine.

Hydrogen peroxide would have felt much more sanitary, and much less barbaric, but the properties of the alcohol would get the job done. Mostly. Maybe. God only knew how the drink had been distilled. Tony just hoped that Peter’s healing factor could lace up and go the extra mile to keep him from getting any infections.

Tony emptied the bottle into the pail, and then, one at a time, he soaked his hands, the tweezers, the boning knife he had found in the butcher’s corner, the fishing hook, and some of the rags. After each item had soaked, he placed them back on the table at Peter’s side.

Tony struck one of the matches and lit the rusty kerosene lamp, giving him added light to see everything that he would need to do.

Finally, Tony asked, “Do you want some of this?” He was holding up one of the other bottles of liquor.

Peter shook his head. “I’m not old enough to drink.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, well, this isn’t high school prom.” Tony placed his hand behind Peter’s head, raising it. “I’m encouraging underage drinking in this scenario. Just take a sip.” Tony brought the bottle to Peter’s lips.

“No, I really don’t want it.” Peter pushed the bottle away and laid his head back down. “It’s not going to work anyways. Dr. Banner said I’m like Steve, and that my body will just burn right through it.” Peter spoke dejectedly. Sometimes Peter’s abilities worked against him. While he had no intentions to ever drink or get drunk, his body’s responses made it impossible for him to take the edge off of the pain, something he definitely needed at this moment.

Tony sighed. “I guess we can’t really ‘cowboy up’ on this one, huh?”

“No.” Peter was unable to smile at Tony’s attempt to lighten the mood-- a bad sign.

“Fine. Fine. Okay. We’ll just do without it. It’s fine.” Tony was making unnecessary shifts to his tools and rambling, subconsciously putting off his upcoming task. He quickly caught himself, remembering that he was the only help Peter was going to get.

_Come on Tony, bring it back together. Peter needs you. The sooner we start, the sooner we finish._ He knew he needed to switch back into his makeshift-doctor mode to get both of them through this. He closed his eyes, straightened his back, and took a deep breath, centering himself.

In mere seconds, Dr. Stark was back, and Tony scooched his stool forward, closer to the table. “Okay, from here on in, I want you to turn your head to the left, and I don’t want you to move it until I say so.” After Peter did as instructed, Tony took one of the dry rags and layed it across his face. “This will help.”

Tony knew that mind-over-matter could play a big role in painful predicaments, and he didn’t want Peter, who had pieced together the wrong message by simply looking at a coil of rope, to see anything in his peripheral vision that could cause him to panic. Whether Peter was able to grit his teeth through the operation, or whether he screamed and cried, Tony wouldn’t think any different of him. In his eyes, Peter had been strong enough already, but he also knew that Peter, a teenager, would want to keep as many dignities as possible.

Honestly, Peter didn’t like being practically blindfolded, but he mumbled out a thanks to Tony anyways. Tying down one of his senses almost seemed as bad as tying down his body. However, he was grateful that Tony wouldn’t be able to see him cry, if some tears were to fall. At least he now had that dignity.

Now that his sight had been inhibited, Peter’s other senses were heightened. Peter heard the folding of a wet cloth, and he felt a burn at the back of his throat from the overwhelming smell of alcohol.

“I’ve got a rag of whiskey to help clean the wound out.” As Tony spoke, he loosened the belt and slowly removed the bloody jacket, not wanting to pull on the wound. He started to raise Peter’s shirt, all the way up to his chest, causing goosebumps to rise all along his abdomen. A single drop of blood dripped down Peter’s side, but other than that, the bullet hole was sealed. “It’s gonna sting. Ready?”

As all of his muscles tensed, Peter gave a minute nod.

Tony placed the rag on top of the bullet hole.

Peter jerked, all of the air rushing out of his lungs. His hands fidgeting at his sides, searching for something to grab on to, as the whiskey covered the damaged tissue.

“Try to relax, buddy.” Tony gently wiped the rag around and across the wound, trying to remove any dirt, debris, and dried, crusty blood, all without pressing too hard. He was trying to give Peter time to adjust.

Peter was breathing through clenched teeth, and beginning to sweat as his midsection burned. He let out a short sigh as Tony took the cloth away.

“Good job. See? Nothing to it. I’m gonna clean it one more time.” Tony dipped the rag in the pail of whiskey. “I’ll have to be a little rougher though, okay. Gotta make sure it’s clean.”

“Yeah.” Peter agreed, not really thinking about the risk of infection, but about the fire in his side.

Tony took the soaked rag, placed it back on to the wound, eliciting a small jolt and grunt from Peter, and then squeezed it, wringing the rag out directly into the wound.

“Oh _God!_” Peter couldn’t hold back. Once the liquid dripped down into the bullet hole, the burning heat turned into a burning ice. His hands found purchase on the edge of the table, and he used the leverage to arch his back.

Tony was able to keep one hand and the rag on the wound, and he quickly brought his other hand around Peter’s waist to press him back down on the table.

“Stop! Stop!” Peter wriggled underneath Tony.

“Peter!” Tony strained out. While Peter wasn’t at his normal level of inhuman strength, his struggles were taking a toll on Tony. He was losing his hold on him. “Quit moving!”

“There’s- ‘s wrong! Something’s _wrong!_” With his midsection trapped down, Peter had resorted to shaking his head, the rag and the principal of mind-over-matter tossed away.

Peter couldn’t help but try and fight Tony’s hands. This was more than just pain. A panic ripped throughout his entire body as he felt a side of himself that he hadn’t felt since the night of the spider bite. It was a part of him that wouldn’t care about Tony, that wouldn’t listen to Tony; a side that might even hurt Tony until the threat was gone. With his spidey-sense racing up and down his spine, and ringing at the back of his skull, screaming GET AWAY! GET AWAY! GET AWAY!, Peter’s primal instincts took over, and he couldn’t ignore them.

Tony had resorted to leaning his shoulder on Peter’s hips, using one hand to try and thwart off Peter’s bruised ones, and using the other hand to keep cleaning the wound. “Just a few seconds buddy, and I’ll be finished.”

Suddenly, the boy’s strength seemed to double and he grabbed Tony’s wrist with a near bone-crushing grip, tore the bloody rag away, and threw it off his body. “I _said stop!_”

Tony pulled his hand away, subconsciously rubbing the ache out of his wrist. He was shocked that Peter had grabbed him hard enough to bruise. Even before, when he had been triaging, Peter hadn’t lashed out at him like that.

Tony was irritated by his lack of control of the situation, but when he finally met Peter’s eyes, his frustration turned to fear. Peter’s eyes held an intensity that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. It was so frightening, so animalistic, and so un-Peter. While he wanted to reprimand him, he knew he needed to take another approach, and he raised his hands in surrender. “All right, you win. Just calm down. It’s off.”

That didn’t seem to be enough for Peter. The alcohol trapped inside still needed to GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT! He started to lift himself, trying to get on his side and force the liquor to spill out.

Tony, seeing Peter’s intentions, knew he needed to be back in control. He grabbed Peter’s shoulders and pushed him back, trying to make eye contact with him.

“_No!_” Peter seethed as he grabbed Tony’s forearms, trying to shove them away.

With each of Peter’s failed attempts to shift he would groan, grunt, and Tony would go as far to say that Peter even growled at him. “Nononono. Just be still. Bestillbestillbestill.” Tony repeated desperately, trying to get Peter’s attention. He had no idea where this new found strength was coming from in his kid, but he wished he had his armor.

Then, like a light was switched back on, Peter’s eyes softened and began to fill with tears. His strength gave out, and his arms collapsed to the table, along with all of his resistance under Tony’s pressure. His spidey-sense, however, still continued to go haywire. “I’m dying. I’m _dying!_” Peter sobbed.

“You’re not dying Pete. You’re okay. I know it burns, but you’re okay. You’ve got to listen to me.” Tony was panting, but relieved that Peter had stopped fighting him. “Take deep breaths.”

Peter was gasping in lungfuls of air, trying to follow Tony’s instructions and acclimate to the pain he had momentarily been freed from. He couldn’t explain what had just happened, but he knew he didn’t like it. He had felt pain, then fear, then nothing, and then pain again. “What was that?”

“You got a little feisty on me.” Tony couldn’t hide the bite in his words. He quickly began resanitizing some of the instruments that had been knocked off of the table during their struggle.

“Feisty?” Peter seemed confused.

Tony mistook his tone for innocence. “Yeah, Peter. Feisty. Stopping me is bad enough, let alone grabbing me?!” Now Tony couldn’t keep his anger at bay. “Believe me, I know pain! It’s bad, and it’s scary, and a lot of times, you don’t get to be the one to make the decisions on when enough is enough.”

“But I-” Peter tried to interject.

“No, I’m not done.” Tony cut him off. “You _can not_ do what you just did. What if I had had the knife, and had started probing? You could have stabbed yourself! Killed yourself even!”

“But I don’t remem-” Peter tried.

“You can scream and cry all you want.” Tony gestured to himself. “I would. There’s no shame in that, and any one of the Avengers would agree with me.” Tony still believed that most of this had to do with Peter clinging on to his dignity. “But you _can’t_ fight me!”

“Mr. Stark, I don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t remember that!” Peter shrieked, distressed not only by Tony’s accusations, but also about the possibility of their truth. “I thought I passed out!”

“Well you certainly weren’t passed out!” Tony paused as Peter’s words finally processed in his head. His tone softened, along with his volume. “You don’t remember grabbing me, or trying to move off of your back?”

“No.” More tears collected in Peter’s eyes.

“Here, don’t cry Peter.” Tony ran his hand through Peter’s hair, noting the heat pouring off of his forehead. “I’m not angry at you, I was just scared, I promise.”

Peter wasn’t upset with Tony for yelling because he thought he deserved it. “No, it’s just- I didn’t think it could happen again.”

Peter was really starting to concern Tony. “What could happen again?” _How can he not remember that?! He was yelling at me, growling at me!_

“I don’t even know! But it’s bad.” Peter paused, trying to come up with the best explanation of what even he didn’t understand. “When I first got bit, I was sick for almost a week. And after I got better, er, after the transformation was done, May and Ben told me that, at one point, I had really scared them. They said that I-”

“Hold up, Peter.” While Tony had been listening to every word, he also couldn’t help but notice something strange with Peter’s side.

“What?” Peter lifted his head to examine where Tony’s eyes were pointed to. From his wound, there was a thin trail of dark blood trickling out, and small black flecks were dotted throughout. “It did that earlier.”

“What do you mean earlier? When?” Tony barked. If this wasn’t a new development in Peter’s eyes, then Tony wanted answers. Despite his irritation, he used a dry rag to gently wipe up the mess.

“When you left me to find the barn. I didn’t want you to worry.” Seeing his mentor’s concern made Peter drop his eyes in shame.

“You’ve _got_ to tell me these things Peter. I don’t know what the hell this is!” Tony grabbed some of the substance from off of the rag. His heart skipped a beat at the ice cold temperature of the small black masses.

Peter began to apologize profusely. “I know, Mr. Stark, I’m sorry! I just thought it was dirt or something. I’m so sorr-”

Tony wasn’t even listening at this point. _Why is it so cold? Was this what Peter was talking about earlier? Could the bullet be releasing some kind of poison inside of him? _Is_ he dying?!_

Whatever Peter was saying, Tony shouted above him. “Lay back. We’ve got to do this now.”

“Mr. Stark?” Peter sounded so small.

“Lay back. Look that way. Don’t move.” Tony, seeing that Peter wasn’t following his instructions, grabbed the boy’s chin, pushed it back, and turned it to the left. Peter’s breathing immediately sped up.

Peter wasn’t trying to be uncooperative, but Tony’s persona had completely changed, and was frightening. He felt like he was returning to those early stages of shock. In the field, when Tony had first found him, he’d been so patient and comforting. Everything was explained to him, and done with the utmost care, but now, everything was happening so fast. Peter could only believe that Tony was scared, and when Tony was scared, it must be bad.

Tony splayed one hand on Peter’s lower right side so he could stretch the skin around the bullet hole, should he need to, and with his other hand, he grabbed the knife. With the knife poised above the wound, ready to start probing for the bullet, Tony finally spared a glance at Peter.

Peter’s face was pale with fear, and his eyes were scrunched shut. All of the tendons in his neck were bulging, and between every other gasp, he would swallow what Tony could only guess was bile.

His mentee’s distress completely froze Tony, forcing him to think. He knew that there was a great possibility that Peter was poisoned. Sam had told him that un-ingested poisons would travel throughout the body in the bloodstream, much like venom. With each heartbeat, the poison would be pumped further, and the quicker the heartbeat, the quicker the poison would be pumped.

Tony dropped the knife and placed his index and middle fingers on the pulse point on Peter’s neck, and sure enough, the beat was racing. Regardless of how quickly he could remove the bullet, Peter would still have poison in his system, so, even removing the bullet as quickly as possible could be more damaging to Peter than taking it slow and keeping his heart rate down.

“Right. I’m sorry Peter. I’m not gonna do anything yet.” Tony patted Peter’s chest.

“Wh-what?” Peter stuttered.

“I just think it’s more important to keep you calm right now.” Tony started rubbing slow circles on Peter’s chest, helping his body involuntarily revolve a breathing pattern around the cycle.

“Why?” Peter visibly relaxed and turned his head back to Tony.

“I’m pretty sure this black stuff is a poison of some kind.” Tony let that sink in before continuing. “And basically, the more worked up you get, the faster it’s going to travel through your system, and make you sicker.”

“Yeah. We learned about poisons and toxins and stuff in chemistry.” Peter was relieved to have this Tony back.

“Keep breathing deep, and I’m just gonna see if you’ve got some of the other symptoms.” Tony struck a match. “I’m not gonna burn you or anything, I’m just checking your pupils.”

Peter kept himself from flinching away at the heat as Tony passed the bright match above his eyes. Sure enough, the dilated pupils didn’t react. While this could have been from the potential concussion Peter had, Tony had his doubts.

“Well, your pupils are dilated, you’ve got a decent fever, and you’re certainly in considerable pain too.” Tony relayed some of the symptoms of poisoning. “Do you feel like you might throw up, or like you’re nause-”

Tony watched Peter’s face go from white to green, and as the boy started gagging, Tony rushed to help him lean over the side of the table. Once his mouth had cleared the table, Peter expelled everything in his stomach. The gargantuan breakfast he had consumed was making an ugly reappearance with each heave.

“Try to get it all up. Maybe this is helping you get rid of the poison.” Tony kept a strong grip on Peter, keeping him from rolling off of the table.

In the nick of time, the cramps returned with a vengeance, and, on one particularly painful wave, Peter brought his arm up to cradle his stomach. Tony, not wanting Peter to hurt himself, redirected the arm, and clasped Peter’s hand within his own.

After the cramp subsided, and Peter had a break from the heaving, he finally got a word out. “Help.” It was followed with a short sob, before another round of heaving took his breath away.

“It’s alright. It’ll be over soon.” Tony tried to reassure him.

Finally, it appeared to be over, and once again, Peter found himself back on his back, gasping for air.

_So much for trying to lower his heart rate._ Tony pulled the shoulder of Peter’s shirt sleeve to wipe his mouth off with.

“You know the drill buddy. Deep breaths.” Tony let Peter collect himself, and then started to inspect whatever it was Peter was able to remove from his system.

As disgusting as vomit can be, Tony had been around enough of it back during his time at MIT to not even be bothered, and as a scientist, he’d seen much worse.

Everything about Peter’s sick was as normal as it could be, except for the dark, greyish-black color of the bile. Tony reached a hand out to dip his fingers in the liquid, and, as he expected, it was cold to the touch. He was, however, grateful that he didn’t see anything that looked like coffee grounds, which would have been dried blood, a sign of internal bleeding.

“Yeah, definitely poison.” Tony wiped his hand off with a rag and then swished it around in the alcohol. _But what kind of poison? None of this thing’s properties are like anything I’ve ever seen before. How fast is it spreading?_

“This.” Peter took another breath. “Sucks.”

Peter’s short conclusion about his predicament was a complete understatement. He was trying to downplay it, for his and Tony’s benefit, but if they didn’t find a solution, or the team, or a way to get out of Switzerland, he knew that things were about to head even further south for him.

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna take care of it.” Tony sat himself back on the stool.

“We doin’ it now?” Peter figured.

“Yeah, in a minute. I think the bullet is releasing the poison, and the sooner we get it out, the more of a fighting chance that your enhanced healing has.” Tony traded the knife out for the tweezers. “I’m gonna use the tweezers because I really don’t think the bullet’s in there too deep. I was getting a bit ahead of myself earlier.”

“Okay.” Peter was already looking away. “But what if I start cramping up again? Or what if I fight you again? Or what if-”

“Those are a lot of ‘what ifs’ bud. If you cramp, I’ll pull out the tweezers, and I know you aren’t going to fight me anymore.” Tony spoke with confidence, trying to ease Peter’s worries. “I’ll have it under control.”

_But what if I don’t have control?_ Peter was horrified by the idea of blacking out again, and coming to, only to see Tony thrown across the room because he couldn’t hold him. “I’m ready.” Peter lied, knowing they had to do this regardless of his fears.

“Alright, I’m gonna get started now.” Tony gave no other warning as he lowered the tweezers, slowly, into the wound, doing his best to not nudge and tear at the sides.

At first contact, Peter locked every single one of his muscles, a low moan deep in his throat. The cold of the tweezers felt extremely foreign, and as they went deeper, millimeter by millimeter, it made Peter’s stomach roll.

Tony was as gentle as he could possibly be, wiggling the tweezers back and forth as he pressed them further, trying to feel for a barrier of metal.

Peter stuttered out a shaky exhale as Tony accidentally tugged at a blood vessel, causing the wound to begin filling up with dark- too dark- blood.

Without removing the tweezers, Tony used a dry rag to soak up the blood. “Breathe kiddo. I’m gonna have this thing out in a jiffy.”

\---------------------------------

Somewhere along the five minute mark, Peter concluded that the bullet would no longer be out “in a jiffy”.

At the ten minute mark, Peter had convinced Tony to give him a break.

At the eleven minute mark, Tony had gone back in, searching with fervor.

At the fifteen minute mark, Peter prayed that he could black out and lose control, because he couldn’t take anymore.

Now, at the twenty minute mark, it looked like Tony was giving him another impromptu break.

“_Dammit!_” Tony threw the black and bloody tweezers into the bucket of whiskey. He had searched and searched and searched. No bullet. He had bumped into every wall of flesh, and maybe even an organ or two. No bullet. He had pulled out remnant after remnant of poison. No bullet.

Peter was a spasming mess, constantly fidgeting up and down on the table. Somewhere along the ordeal, while trying to get the best access to the wound amidst Peter’s struggles, Tony had ripped the shirt off of Peter’s body. Now, the teen was covered in bloody handprints from Tony trying to keep him still.

If Peter would of had anything left in his stomach, it would be all over his face, mixed with the rest of the snot and tears. He had his trembling hands over his eyes, trying to hide his shame.

“Ist- issit- out? Are we done?!” Peter cried, knowing he hadn’t felt or heard the removal of any sort of bullet. He was past the end of his rope. His fever was beginning to consume him, his whole body sweltering, except for the wound, which, with every jab of the tweezers, was freezing. He felt pain and he felt sickness, something he wasn’t familiar with since the bite.

Tony stayed silent, his eyes hard. He had dropped his “I’ll explain everything buddy” act, because somewhere along the way, Peter had stopped listening. He would only plead for it to be over. As difficult as it was, Tony had also stopped trying to comfort Peter because _nothing_ was helping, and if he stopped every few seconds to give him a pat on the shoulder, this would only take longer. He was done coddling, for Peter’s sake, or that’s what he told himself. All he could do was try to distance himself because every single whimper, cry, and groan was killing him.

Tony picked up the knife, a last ditch effort to find the bullet.

Peter lowered his hands, trying to see if Tony had heard or understood him. Through the blur of his tears, he saw the lantern’s light glint off of something longer and broader than a pair of tweezers.

“No! Please don’t! _Nononononono!_” Peter begged desperately. He knew Tony’s plan, and he found himself sitting up, trying to push him and his torturous knife away.

It was painfully easy for Tony to force Peter back down on the table. “I’ve got to do this buddy. I’m almost done. I promise. You’re okay. Breathe.” Tony spoke quietly, mono tonelessly, knowing that his reassurances were falling on deaf ears. He really was almost done. If widening the entrance wound didn’t help him locate the bullet, he was just going to leave it, before he gave Peter a heart attack.

Tony stood up and leaned over Peter. His abdomen and chest were keeping Peter’s hips down, while one hand held both of Peter’s hands together and pressed them back on to his chest, and the other hand brought the knife to the bloody hole.

“Y-you said! You s-said no knife!”

Tony dug the knife in, and down, making a small, but deep cut on the edge of the wound. Peter’s cries, that sounded more like accusations, turned into a long scream as he threw his head back. Tony could feel him arching up into him, trying to get away.

Tony made three more cuts, each the same distance apart, and the same depth, while Peter screamed his throat raw. Tony dropped the knife, and grabbed the tweezers from the bucket.

“Stop! _Tony!_ Stop! D-don’t!”

Tony drove in the tweezers, the new edges of the wound letting him go deeper, his fingertips starting to enter the wound.

“Please! It _hurts!_ Please!”

Tony twisted his wrist, moving the tweezers around in every angle he could make them. Nothing but flesh.

_ “May!”_

Tony pulled out the tweezers, covered in a new layer of black and red. Blood began bubbling out of the wound. He slapped a rag on the wound, and then hoisted Peter into his arms.

“I’m sorry.” Tony tucked Peter’s head over his shoulder.

“Help! P-lease help!” Peter sobbed, lost in the pain, his fever, and his fear.

“I’m right here buddy.” Tony ran his fingers through Peter’s sweaty curls.

“Stop! Please! I-I-I can’t!” Peter was pawing at the rag over his wound with an uncoordinated hand.

“I know. Just leave it. It’s okay. We’re done.” Tony choked up at the end, squeezing Peter’s hand, hoping he would get a squeeze back. Peter, however, pulled his hand away, letting it lie on the table.

Tony had seen a lot of trauma. He’d watched soldiers, his friends, and his own parents die, but none of that turmoil compared to what he was feeling now. He was supposed to protect Peter, and look out for him, not torture him. The guilt was so encompassing, he doubted Peter would ever trust him again.

“I don’t wanna die!” Peter was inconsolable. Hyperventilating.

A tiny voice told Tony that Peter needed to slow his breathing, but Tony knew that that could take forever, something his heart or his body couldn’t afford. Instead, he just hugged Peter tighter, and rubbed circles on his back, waiting for him to put himself out. “You aren’t gonna die. Everything’s okay. Go to sleep, buddy.”

“No!” Tony didn’t know whether Peter was fighting consciousness, or his mentor, but it didn’t matter because Peter’s gasps stopped as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He slumped against Tony, completely boneless. Tony sighed in relief.

“Good boy. Just rest a bit.” Tony lowered Peter onto the table.

Tony tried to distract himself from what he’d just done by neatening up the table. However, when he picked up the knife, and saw the drying blood and sinew, he threw it to the ground, fell to his knees, and wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I like how this chapter played out. Keyword being "think". I'm now realizing I'm not as great a writer as I thought in the sense that I. Can't. Write. Fast. At. All. I thought I would be able to fire out chapters every week, but now it's like "maybe I can get this chapter out by the end of 2020". I'm really going to to do my best to try and improve in regards to that. 
> 
> Also, don't worry. All will be revealed, and more will be explained. I think I'm going to add a new tag "Feral Peter", which I will be exploring more in this story, and probably all of my future stories.  
-WithACherryOnTop
> 
> Hey guys! I'm thinking about writing soon. If I do, then I'll have to change my name.  
-Just_the_Editor?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! An update in two weeks. We're making some progress.  
I wanna make this clear, because maybe some people might be getting the wrong idea (my editor and I joked about this). This is not a "Venom" story. That is all.   
-WithACherryOnTop

By the time the last of Tony’s tears had dried, night had fallen. Peter was still passed out, having not moved an inch.

Tony sat himself back on the stool and turned the wick adjustment knob on the lantern to give himself a little more light. With the damage now fully lit, he silently cursed himself, knowing he should have cleaned Peter up before allowing himself to break down.

His original plan with the bullet wound was to extract the bullet and stitch Peter up with the fishing line, but now, he decided it was best to leave the wound open. Not only would that make it easier for Helen Cho, an actual M.D., to locate and remove the bullet once Tony got Peter home, but it would also allow the poison to escape if Tony could figure out the best way to flush it out.

The whiskey had seemed to do a decent job of removing the poison, but Tony knew that he and Peter were not ready to go through that again anytime soon.

For now, Tony wanted to remove any and all debris around the wound and the God-awful bloody handprints on Peter’s body. He didn’t want to use the whiskey for that, in case they would need it later, and they had no water.

When taking Peter from the woods to the barn, Tony hadn’t bothered with collecting any water. After all, he thought that once Peter was cared for, he could leave the coherent, recoving, un-feverish kid behind to stock up on their water. Instead, his kid was unconscious, in pain, sick, and nursing a fever that Tony guessed to be one hundred two or one hundred three, all with a bullet stuck inside of him releasing a potentially deadly poison.

Tony knew, especially with the rising fever, that no water was not an option. As nauseating as it was, he would have to leave Peter.

Tony used the pail of bloody, grey-stained whiskey to slosh Peter’s vomit towards and down the butchering corner’s drain. He also filled one bottle with all of the unused whiskey. He now had a couple of empty bottles for drinking water, and a pail for water to clean Peter off with and keep him cool.

Covering one of the walls that divided the stalls, Tony found an old horse blanket. One side was weathered red cloth, but the other was wool, intermingled with old horse hair and hay. He felt a chill in the air, and knowing that it would only continue to drop, he covered Peter ‘s wound with a clean rag, and then tucked the warm blanket around him. Even though Peter’s fever was high, Tony didn’t want to cool him down by just exposing him to the elements.

Tony dropped down by Peter’s ear, not daring to touch his forehead and feel the dangerous heat. “I’m gonna be right back real soon, buddy. Just keep resting.”

Peter made no acknowledgment that he had heard Tony. Not a sound, not a flinch.

Tony lit the other lamp, grabbed his bottles and pail, and quietly left the barn.

The moon was casting a gorgeous glow, knowing it only had a couple of hours before it was hidden by the clouds. There was a light breeze, crickets were chirping, flowers were hiding their blooms, and an owl hooted in the distance.

How Tony wished that this mission was as simple as it had sounded. They both could be having a wonderful time here. Tony could just imagine returning home, Peter with armfulls of Swiss cheese and chocolate, and telling May all about the beautiful scenery, the villagers, and, as Tony would add to tease Peter, the terrifying horses.

Now, if they could make it back, Tony would have to give Peter’s aunt a call explaining, “Well May, I’m sorry I nearly got your kid killed. Maybe next year we’ll try for an Asian river cruise instead.” Tony crossed the field, scoffing at the idea.

Once he broke through the tree line, he picked up the rushing sound of the creek, and it wasn’t much further that he found it.

Tony cupped his hands, not realizing how thirsty he was until he felt the splash of water on his shoes. The water was incredibly cold, having traveled from the mountains, and was crystal clear.

After quenching his thirst, Tony let the water filter through his fingers, catching any leaf fragments or bits of mud before they reached the bottles, or pail. A bonus to Hallstatt’s way of life: no automobile pollutants or chemical fertilizers to taint the water.

Knowing that he was going to reserve the drinking water for Peter, Tony took a few last sips before trekking back. His own hydration wasn’t really a priority for him.

On his way back through the field, Tony saw that some fireflies had joined in with the moon to help light his way. He didn’t even need the lamp.

Upon reaching the barn, Tony took one last, deep, refreshing breath of air. He could do this.

\---------------------------------------------------

Tony had never really believed people when they spoke of smelling death, or illness, but when he had opened the barn door, he finally understood. The barn no longer smelled of stale hay and horses, but of sickness, sweat, and blood. The air was thick, and Tony could practically feel the weight of despair. He doused his lamp and headed over to Peter.

The only change in Peter’s position was that his head was now tipped to the left, instead of lying flat.

“I got the water, Pete. You don’t need to wake up or anything yet. But it’ll be here when you do.” Tony liked talking to Peter, just not when he was screaming in pain. The constant background noise and personal narrative helped put Tony at ease, and he hoped that it helped his kid too, even if it was just in his subconscious.

“Let’s see if we can get you cleaned up a bit.” Tony carefully pulled the horse blanket off.

Peter’s breath stuttered, turning into a couple of weak coughs, as goosebumps rose all along his skin.

“Sorry about that chill, bud. Are you waking up?” Tony waited. Peter stilled. Tony removed the rag covering the bullet hole and tossed it into the bucket. “Guess not.”

Tony wrung out the rag, deciding that he would start at Peter’s chest and then work his way down. “Alrighty. This is gonna be pretty cold, buddy.” He started to wipe one of the largest prints.

At first contact of the ice cold rag, Peter groaned, his hands weakly coming up to preserve any warmth possible. He didn’t fight Tony, but tried to wrap his arms around himself.

“I know this isn’t fun, kiddo. But it’s helping us get rid of all this dirt and blood, and it’s helping get your temp down.” Tony kept up his ministrations.

Once Peter’s unconscious state realized the annoying cold wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon, he turned his head to the right, facing Tony, and whimpered.

Realizing that Peter was about to wake up, Tony froze. Earlier, he had been thrilled by the idea of Peter waking up, as it would make it easier for his kid to tell him what was hurting, what was worsening, maybe even what was improving. Now, he was worried about the fear, distrust, and silent judgement he would see in the boy’s face.

There wasn’t any time for Tony to contemplate a non-existent tear in their bond-- Peter shook awake, opening his eyes.

\--------------------------------------------------

He felt extremely cold.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that he should be feeling the heat of infection, and sickness, but he felt cold instead.

It was actually worse than cold. “Cold” is walking down the street in New York City on a January morning. “Cold” is stepping outside, during snowfall, after napping in Ben’s chair in front of the fireplace. “Cold” is when Natasha turns the Avenger’s Compound air conditioning on way too high.

This cold felt like death, but death didn’t feel like he expected. There wasn’t anything like a numbness. Definitely not a numbness. This cold brought pain. And fear. It was an iciness that reached his core, and clawed its way up to his heart. How could this cold feel like death when this cold was so alive? It had a hand around his lungs, causing them to seize for air. It was in his spine, racing up his neck, to his skull, to his brain, to his thoughts, to his memories, to his-

Peter heard a voice. Or a sound that was like a voice. Very blurred-- he couldn’t make out the words--, but there.

_ Mr. Stark? Are you there?_

Suddenly, what little warmth Peter didn’t even know he had was stripped away.

Then, it felt like ice on his chest, sliding up and down and across.

_So cold! What is it?_

He felt himself moving his arms and his head, or at least, he thought he did. Everything was in slow motion, until it wasn’t.

He awoke with a gasp, the dreadful “death” cold forced out of his mind.

\-------------------------------------

Tony stared, anxious about what his kid was thinking, and about what he might say. Peter’s glazed eyes were filled with fear, rolling around the room, trying to re-familiarize himself with his surroundings.

Once Peter’s eyes met Tony’s, the fear dissipated. Peter reached out one of his hands, not even realizing. “Mr. Stark. You’re here.”

Tony briefly grimaced at the rasp in Peter’s weakened voice, but quickly switched it into a comforting smile. “Of course, Pete. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He clasped Peter’s hand. He was grateful that Peter was seeking him out, and not pushing him away. He, frankly, thought he would have deserved it, but Peter stayed his trusting self.

“Ugh.” Peter felt shivers starting up. “Why is it so cold?”

“Well, for starters, you’re sporting one helluva fever. And,” Tony held up the rag, “I’m trying to wash you off a little bit. It’s pretty much icey, mountainy, snowmelty, water, so it’s kind of chilly.”

“Yeah.” Peter broke their contact, and forced his hands down to his sides. He hoped his mentor could get this over with soon, so he could warm up again.

“Thanks, kiddo. Of course you didn’t have to move, I was doing just fine earlier with your hands moving all over the place. . .” Tony kept talking, knowing that Peter would want something else to focus on. Peter added his nods and “yeahs” and “nahs” whenever appropriate.

Peter, however, quit his small additions when Tony had finally worked his way down to the wound. The smallest tug and pull made him wince, and he decided to just keep his mouth shut to stop any embarrassing noises he might make from escaping.

“I’m sorry, bud, but infection plus poison sounds like a bad combo.” Tony continued to “disinfect” Peter to the best of his ability. All the while, Peter began trembling, and his teeth started to chatter.

They were both silent for a while, Tony focusing more on the task at hand while Peter eyed the horse blanket, and tried to think warm, painless thoughts. However, Peter’s mind couldn’t make him forget, and it started to push forward everything that had happened.

Peter swallowed. “Th-that was bad.”

Tony, paused, knowing exactly what Peter was talking about. “I know, Peter. And I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

“‘S okay.” What else was Peter supposed to say. “Well it was the most agonizing moment of my life, but I’ll walk it off.” or “How could you have put me through that?” didn’t seem to be the most appropriate responses. He had been a little hurt that his mentor had stopped listening to him, and helping him through the pain, but time had been of the essence, and he guessed that he was being a bit of a baby.

Also, Peter knew that Tony was eating himself alive with the guilt, and thought that he didn’t need to add his whining and complaining on top of that. Plus, everything that Tony did had to be done for his own good, even the knife. He shuddered at the memory.

Thinking about the knife, and how it had been one of the last substantial things he remembered, Peter had to ask, “Did you get it out?”

“No.” Tony watched as Peter’s pallor complexion somehow went another shade whiter.

Peter felt his stomach sink at the idea of more “surgery”. He closed his eyes, not wanting a chance for the growing tears to escape. “Tony, wait a sec.”

Tony could practically see the overthinking. “Here, stop. I’m not-”

“I just don’t- er, I don’t think-” Suddenly, acting like a baby and whining and complaining didn’t seem like such an issue to Peter anymore.

Tony dropped the cloth and started to rub his hands up and down Peter’s arms, trying to calm him down. “Come on, buddy. Relax. We’re trying to keep the heart rate down remember? Now, I’m all done with the-”

“I can’t do that again. I can’t!” Peter’s voice wobbled and broke before he choked off a sob. He felt powerless, and very un-Avenger like, for being unable to keep his weakness from Tony. “It just wouldn’t stop. And I- And I don’t want to feel that way again. I’m sorry.” He tried to rub the tears out of his eyes, and covered his face.

Tony felt badly for the kid. It took a lot of hurt to break Peter down like that, and he knew how much the kid hated to be emotionally vulnerable. “Come on, Pete. Work with me here. I’m not going to do anything. Alright? I’m just gonna leave it.”

That finally seemed to break through to Peter. “Leave it?” He muffled from behind his hands.

“Yeah. I had told you that earlier, before you konked out.” Tony looked away guiltily. “But you couldn’t really pay any attention to me.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Peter mumbled again. Thinking back on it, all Peter could remember was Tony holding him, and if Tony had been talking to him, he hadn’t been able to hear it over his own screams.

“Don’t apologize, kiddo. About any of it, okay?” Tony gently moved Peter’s hands, wanting to make some eye contact. “It’s okay to be afraid, alright. You’ve got every right to be. And it was my fault, anyways. I should have stopped sooner. And I wish that I had, for your sake.”

“‘Iss okay. You had to try.” Peter really was grateful for all that Tony was willing to go through in order to keep him safe. He felt awful that his reaction, unintentional lack of cooperation, and crying and begging made it even harder for the man. “I’m sorry for being kind of a baby.”

“What’d I say about apologies?” Tony was only half-joking. “And besides, Morgan, during ‘the terrible twos’, way way worse. A whole lot more tantruming and crying. She even bit me once, so I don’t think you can top her there.”

Peter smiled, which Tony considered a win. The teen, however, looked exhausted. His short outburst had taken a lot of energy out of him, and his paleness had been replaced with a rosy flush on his cheeks.

Tony knew that his kid shouldn’t be trying to keep himself awake for much longer. “Alright, so, even though you’re not a baby, it is naptime. Well, actually, it’s night, so I guess it’s bedtime.”

Peter did his best to play along, the chatter back in his teeth. “T-tuck me in? S-sing me a lu-lullaby?”

“Maybe a bedtime story instead. How about ‘Spider-man vs. Hot Dog Stand’?” Tony covered the wound with another clean rag, and soaked another in the bucket of water.

“Th-that’s my story, Mis-mister Stark.” Peter’s chuckle turned into a cough.

Tony grabbed one of the bottles of water and helped Peter sit up. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten you worked up. Here, take a few sips.”

The coughing fit turned into a few last huffs. “‘S okay.” Peter felt a bottle at his lips, and, not realizing how parched, and cottony his mouth felt until now, he quickly started to drink. It felt so good on the scratchiness at the back of his mouth, and cooled the soreness all the way down his throat.

Tony was glad to see Peter seeking hydration, knowing that that was a good sign. He did try to regulate his drinking pace, slowly tipping the bottle; he didn’t want Peter to take too much at once and choke, or be unable to keep it down.

With the bottle half empty, Tony pulled it away. Peter frowned at being denied more water, but didn’t say anything. It was probably for the best since he could feel the water sloshing around in his empty stomach.

Tony helped Peter lay back, and then grabbed the blanket again, tucking it loosely around Peter’s body. He also grabbed the soaked rag, folded it into a rectangle, and laid it across Peter’s forehead.

Some tension leaked from Peter’s face, before it was replaced with bafflement. “Ugh- iss so weird.”

“What is?” Tony inquiried.

“It’s just,” Peter tried to collect his thoughts, “like my head f-feels hot, but the r-rest of me is cold, you know?” The rag felt amazing on his forehead, taking the edge off of the fever, but it made the rest of his body shiver.

Tony pondered it for a moment, wondering what all he should tell Peter. He made his decision, searching for the dirty rag with the remnants of poison on it. It was difficult to find, underneath all of the now brown, blood-stained rags, but he pulled it out. “Do you remember me telling you how I thought that you might be being poisoned?”

It was difficult for Peter to think about anything that had happened before the cutting had started, but he grasped the memory. “Mh-hm.”

“I’m pretty sure this is it.” Tony unfolded the rag, keeping it at Peter’s eye level.

Peter took one of his arms out from underneath the blanket, touching the dried up, black mess. “Hm.”

“‘Hm’ is right. I’ve never seen anything like it before, and the strange thing was, it was ice cold.” Peter’s eyes darted to meet Tony’s. “And when I cleaned up the vomit, your bile was tinted black, and cold like this.”

“S-so is it this stuff thass making m-me so cold?” Peter concluded.

“That’s what I’m guessing. So even though your body might be fighting it off, giving you the fever, this stuff is pushing right back, giving you these extra chills.” Tony tucked Peter’s arm back under the blanket. “It’s probably making its way through your body, like a venom, in the bloodstream.

“Yeah, m-my bloodstream. And th-then my tissue. Nervous s-system. Then, my or-organs.” Peter felt like his body was already beginning to shut down.

“Peter, please stop.” Tony couldn’t stand to hear his kid talk about himself as if he was already a goner. “I’m gonna get you out of this alright? And you’re already doing better. You’re drinking good, and more coherent, and I think your enhanced healing might be beating this.”

Peter could hear the hint of a lie in Tony’s voice. “Mr. Stark, if I can’t fight this-”

“Shh, none of that. Please, Pete. Just rest. Bedtime, remember?” Tony covered Peter’s eyes, encouraging him to try and sleep, and also because he was unable to look at the fear and diminishing bravery there.

“O-okay. I’m gonna w-wake up?” Peter tried to state it, but it came out as more of a question.

“Yes, you’re gonna wake up, Pete. Trust me.” Tony moved his hand to Peter’s hair, gently brushing his fingers through the tangles.

“‘Kay.” Peter pushed his head back into Tony’s hand, not wanting to lose the contact.

Peter’s anxious, quick breaths slowly tapered off into deeper ones, and Tony knew that he had drifted. Keeping the one hand plunged in Peter’s hair, he dropped his head into the other, trying to envision a scenario in which they both came out of this alive.

\--------------------------------------------

Tony didn’t sleep, and he hadn’t expected to in the first place.

At first, he had been trying to come up with a plan of escape. _Is the jet still at the airport? Would they have blown it up by now? I don’t really know what these people are capable of anymore, but if they’ve probably got some artillery up their sleeves, they may have blown it up. But if we could get back there. . . no, they’ll find us before we’re even able to make it a couple of miles._

Tony had even taken a look at the suit at one point, desperate for it to be back online. _Dammit! How the hell did they even crack into this, and why is it still down? F.R.I.D.A.Y should be up and running if we’re far enough from Maxime. Or maybe he’s got people stationed all through these mountains, all able to hack in and dismantle my protocols and programs. Or maybe it’s some huge satellite covering over a hundred miles. I don’t know, I can’t be sure until I’ve got F.R.I.D.A.Y back up, and I probably can’t do that until I’m in my lab or at the Compound._

However, the greatest component to Tony’s lack of sleep was Peter.

Within an hour of falling asleep, Peter had, much to Tony’s dismay, taken a turn for the worse.

It would switch, on and off, every couple of minutes. One moment, Peter would be absolutely still, his breathing slow, deep, and gentle, as if he really was just asleep. The only hint to sickness was a few rivulets of sweat and his flushed cheeks. Then, he would become restless- shifting his hands around, and tossing and turning his head, trying to evade some invisible attacker. Occasionally, he would even cry out, asking for help or just unconsciously expressing his pain.

Throughout it all, Tony tried to be there for Peter. He would hold him close, firmly, and try to calm him in whatever way he could. Every five minutes or so he would get a moment of stillness where he could ineffectively wipe the kid down with the cold cloth. The fever continued to climb.

At one point, Tony pulled up the makeshift dressing to check on the wound. While he had hoped for a healthy red, the edges of the hole were beginning to die. Worse, some of Peter’s visible veins, extending across his stomach, had begun to shade from blue to black. The poison was somehow able to make Peter look even paler.

While Tony knew it would be best for him to mark how far the poison had traveled, he couldn’t muster up the courage to do so. Maybe, if he imagined hard enough, he wouldn’t be able to tell how quickly the black was stretching towards Peter’s heart.

Now, an hour or so before sunrise, Tony guessed, Peter was starting up with another one of his fits.

Peter felt trapped in his own head, but, unlike the warm memories he usually found stored there, there was only cold and darkness. He felt his mind wandering, searching for light and life. It was almost like he was underwater, but he could breathe. Maybe it was more of a floaty, or flying feeling? It wasn’t like when he would free fall as he would swing from building to building. It must be flying. Something different, something weird, something-

Peter felt like he was slammed with a huge force of icy energy. Not only did it hit him, but it crushed him, squeezing all of the air out of his lungs. Subconsciously, he thrashed and clawed at his chest, trying to get the foreign force out, and the air back in.

“Tony!” Peter choked out.

“I’m right here, kiddo.” Tony tried to grab Peter’s wandering hands, sensing that this was going to be much more intense than fevered delirium.

_It’s gonna kill me! Please Mr. Stark! Where are you?! It’s so cold! It hurts!_ Peter was screaming for Tony, at least in his head. All that came out were whimpers and whines.

“It’s gonna be okay. You’re fine.” Tony hushed him.

Tony then blanched as he saw that Peter was weakly bucking his back off of the table, his chest rigid, no air getting in or out. Yep, definitely worse than fever dreams. “Nonononono. You’ve gotta breathe, Peter!”

_Mr. Stark! Please! Help me!_ Peter felt the “death” cold flooding his brain and an ice-like barrier. He was so close to breaking through, waking up, fighting this, but he was always ripped back.

“Help!”

“Okay, okay, good.” Tony breathed a minute sigh of relief. If Peter was able to say something, he must be getting a bit of oxygen. He grabbed Peter’s shoulders, shaking him to either try and wake him up, or end the fit. “Shh. Try to take deep breaths. God, I don’t even know if you can hear this. You can fight this, buddy! Alright?! You’re Spider-man!”

_Please help, Mr. Stark! I’m trying so hard! Help me! I can’t beat it!_ Peter had no idea what “it” was, only that it was slowly suffocating him.

Tony panicked as Peter once again stopped taking breaths in. “God dammit! Come on, Parker! You can’t quit!” He pulled up Peter’s eyelids, trying to see if he was waking up or conscious, but all he saw were whites. He slapped Peter across the cheek, hoping to rouse him. “You can’t quit on me, Peter!” _You can’t leave me, Peter!_ “Wake up, right now! Breathe!” He thumped his hand against Peter’s chest, hard, trying to end the seizing of his lungs.

Peter was starting to see true darkness cloud his vision. The kind of darkness you don’t come back from, when suddenly, he broke through the ice, and was thrust back into warmth and light. He was, however, unable to escape the pain.

Peter brought it an agonized gasp, and then erupted into sputters and coughs.

“Oh, thank God!” Tony tried to hoist Peter up, trying to put as little strain on his lungs as possible. “Come on, come on. Sit up, buddy. Sit up.”

“Mr.-, Mr. Star-” Peter wheezed. “Mr. Stark?”

“Yup. It’s me. Just breathe for a minute, alright.” Tony pulled Peter in to a hug, draping Peter’s head over his shoulder in order to keep his neck lengthened and his chest as expanded as possible.

“I feel- I’m gonna-” Peter started.

“Shh. Don’t talk, just for a minute. You’re okay.” Tony would regret having cut Peter off.

“Gonna be s-sick.” Peter gagged. What bile that had accumulated in his stomach throughout the night gushed down the back of Tony’s shirt.

Tony was past the point of feeling disgusted, and he decided to ignore how the vomit felt more like an Icee Slush instead of hot, acidic goop.

“Sorry.” Peter spit, miserable.

“It’s okay. Don’t even worry about it. It’s okay.” _I’m just glad to have you back and breathing,_ Tony kept to himself, unsure if Peter had grasped how close he’d come to the end. He slowly started to rub Peter’s back, hoping to keep the coughs and gags at bay.

Other than Peter’s expellants dripping down his back, Tony also felt something soaking in through his shirt. He pushed Peter back, dreading what he would find. The wound had reopened, leaking blood, pus, and black. “Shit.”

Right as Tony was about to staunch the flow, he heard the tell-tale sign of an engine, revving periodically as it came closer. “_Shit._”

_Oh God, is he here already? That’s impossible!_ Tony lowered the lantern wick, dousing the light, and grabbed the bloody knife from the floor. He tucked it into the back of his pants as he pulled Peter’s legs over the edge of the table. “Come on, get up. We’ve gotta go.”

“No, Tony, I can’t.” Peter was still trying to get his stomach back under control. He didn’t bother putting any pressure on the wound- there was no point. He knew that Maxime had come back for them, most likely with his deadly posse. But just because he was going to die didn’t mean Tony had to. “Please go.”

The sounds of the engine drew closer.

“Stop that, right now Parker. I mean it. You’re fine, Peter. _Fine._” Tony willed it that Peter would believe him, but Peter wasn’t a naive little kid. He knew what was going to happen to him. Death by poison or a bullet in his head. With everything that had happened, Peter was aiming towards the latter.

“T-Tony, I d-don’t want you to die, too.” Peter knew that Tony could probably run, and try and escape. Maybe Maxime wouldn’t be able to see him.

The engine cut off.

“I’m not leaving you here, alright. Get up, right now. We’ve got time.” Tony whispered fiercely as he yanked Peter off the table, forcing his feet to the ground, as he held him up.

Peter couldn’t contain a cry.

Tony slapped his hand over Peter’s mouth. “Shh. Come on, Pete.” He felt horrible as he tried to cover Peter’s agony, but he had to get the kid out of here alive- out of this barn, out of this village, out of this country, off of this continent.

Peter was shaking his head, and Tony felt tears leaking over the back of his hand. The kid clearly didn’t feel like he was worth saving. He didn’t want Tony to be sacrificing his opportunity to escape for him, who didn’t even stand a chance, whether Maxime was able to finish him off or not.

Keeping his hand over Peter’s mouth, Tony pulled Peter’s hands around his neck, hoping he would know to interlock his fingers and hold on. Blindly, Tony practically dragged Peter, and searched for what he assumed was the back of the barn, where there would hopefully be a door without a firing line on the other side.

Tony saw the beam of a flashlight casting through the barn windows, and he pulled the both of them down quickly. Peter’s chest resonated with a groan before Tony felt a cold splash against his hand. He fanned his fingers as far as he dared to let the vomit escape so it wouldn’t choke Peter, but so he was still able to keep him as quiet as possible.

The light was gone, and the front door began to jiggle, as Maxime fumbled with the latch.

“Come on, come on, Pete.” Tony got the both of them slightly more vertical, and headed towards the back.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, light streaming over Iron Man and Spider-Man, their escape foiled.

“_Ne bouge pas!_”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that last phrase means "Don't move!" in French, via the ever reliable Google Translate. I hope you guys liked this chapter. There's so much more to come!  
-WithACherryOnTop
> 
> Whelp, I haven't started writing yet. I have some ideas. But for now. . . I am still. . .  
-Just_the_Editor


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so, an even shorter period between updates. Whoo hoo! There must be some reason why I have so much free time on my hands.  
But seriously, take care of yourselves, guys. I'm expecting to get the virus, just because I'm not off work, and they're making it seem like if you don't lock yourself in your house, you will get sick. I just worry about my parents because they're in the Boomer age-range, and my co-workers have called this virus the Boomer Doomer.  
Even if you're pretty firm with your ability to get over the sickness, like I am, be safe for the sake of your elders.  
SOCIAL DISTANCE PARTY!!!!!!!!!! BYOB and BYO music!  
I hope you like the chapter!  
-WithACherryOnTop

_“Ne bouge pas!_”

Tony had never learned any French, even when he’d been instructed to by Pepper, way back in 1999, when he’d had to deliver a lecture on integrated circuits at a technical conference in Bern. However, the aggression in the man’s voice brought him and Peter to a halt, Tony’s back to the intruder, and Peter’s body shielded by his mentor.

Tony felt Peter trying to move his head, to peek over his shoulder, so he gave the boy’s mouth and jaw a firm squeeze. The action made Peter’s own vomit squish across his cheeks, but effectively stopped him, much to his dislike.

Tony knew that Peter was only curious about who this man was, because both knew that the new voice was not that of Maxime’s, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t one of his men, eager to target and take a shot at Peter. The less the man could see of Peter, the better.

No, this man was not Maxime; his voice sounded gravely and aged.

“ _ Les mains en l’air!” _

Tony couldn’t understand him, but he knew enough about hostile situations that he needed to make his movements slowly and carefully. He also knew that he would need to try and reason with the man, and he couldn’t do that with a language barrier. “I don’t speak-”

“_Les mains en l’air!” _The hammer of a rifle was cocked.

Tony couldn’t hide his flinch, and he felt the puffs of air blowing on his hand begin to quicken. He took a deep, shaky breath; he needed to be brave for Peter, and he needed to keep him calm. He tried again, speaking even slower, “I. Don’t. Speak. French.”

“_Anglais?_”

Tony did understand that word. “Yes. I speak English.”

There was a pause as the man brought his vocabulary of English to the forefront of his mind. “Put hands up!” The French accent was extremely thick, more so than Maxime’s, but coherent.

Tony regretfully took his stabilizing hand away from Peter’s back and removed his other hand from Peter’s mouth, bringing them up slowly above his head in surrender.

“Who is with you?!” The man could see the fingers entwined behind Tony’s neck.

“He is my friend.” That was the best answer Tony could think of at the moment. Peter was more than a mentee to him, but after everything that was happening, he was beginning to feel less and less like a father figure.

“Hands up!” The man directed at Peter.

“He can’t, right now.” Tony didn’t know what to think of the short silence afterwards. Would the man not care? Was he about to pull the trigger?

“Turn! Slow!”

Tony didn’t want this man to see Peter, especially when he had his guard down. “Please-”

“Now!”

Tony sighed, but muttered quietly, “Come on, Pete. Gotta move a bit.”

The two heros managed to shift in a way that they were now half facing the man. Tony eyed the rifle, constantly swaying back and forth between the both of them. Peter had his eyes closed, hit with a wave of exhaustion.

The old man raised his eyebrows in surprise, recognizing the identity of Tony Stark, before he once again hardened his gaze. “Why are you here, Iron Man?”

Tony cursed internally. All they needed was for another radical to know who he was, and who wanted to kill him, and possibly Peter. “I was on a mission, in Hallstatt.”

“This not Hallstatt!” The man cried angrily, his rifle shaking in his hands. He didn’t want anyone on his property.

“I know, I am sorry. We had to leave after-” Tony stopped after he felt Peter’s fingers slipping from behind his neck. Without thinking, he dropped his arms to get a grip on Peter’s waist, so he could help him stay up.

“Hands!”

Tony groaned, huffing in frustration as he brought his hands back up. “Please. He is _going_ to _fall._”

The man ignored Tony, sticking with his inquisition. “Maxime brought you?”

Tony shook his head, unknowingly knocking off Peter’s grip. “No! No! We’re trying to get away from him!”

Peter let out a desperate whine, his hands scrabbling at Tony’s collar, pulling and pinching at the skin, trying to hold on.

“Please, let me hold him!” Tony begged. “We’re not with Maxime! We’re not with Maxime! He tried to kill us!”

The man didn’t lower his rifle, and had a confused look on his face. He was trying to translate and process all that Tony had rushed to say, especially regarding Maxime.

“Tony, I, I can’t-” Peter’s hands grabbed at Tony’s body before he collapsed to the ground with a thud at Tony’s feet.

Peter choked off his scream and shot his hands to his stomach, wrapping them around his bleeding wound. He hurt, _everywhere,_ and the filthy dirt floor was so hard and cold against him. Straw scratched and itched at his bare skin as he found himself rocking back and forth, praying for the pain to dissipate.

Tony kept his gaze locked on the man, unable to look at Peter as he writhed on the ground, crying softly. He felt his own hot tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

For the first time, the old man’s face appeared softer, and even a little bit regretful. Looking at Peter, he could tell that he wasn’t even a man yet. He had absolutely no facial hair, and even through the pained expression on his face, the man could see soft cheeks and boyish features. “What is wrong with boy?”

“Maxime and his men _shot_ him. _Please._ Let. Me. Help him.” Tony seethed. He was in such a state of rage that he didn’t care if this man shot him down right then and there. He was exhausted, angry, and pained, but he_ needed_ to help Peter.

The man lowered his gun.

Tony perceived that as his permission, and completely switched from bristling to comforting as he dropped to his knees. “Shhh, shh shh shh. It’s okay, Peter.” Tony used one hand to try and push Peter back, and the other to pry his hands away from the wound. “Come on, we don’t want to get it dirty, right, bud?”

“Mr. Stark? _Please._ It hurts s-so much!” Peter really didn’t care that he was crying and begging in front of a complete stranger.

“I know it does, buddy. Just lay back, I’m gonna take care of it.” Tony stretched over Peter to grab a rag from the ground. Clean or used, he wanted to get the bleeding stopped. He covered and pressed into the wound with both hands.

“_Stop!_” Peter threw his head back.

“I can’t, we’ve gotta get the bleed-” Tony spoke softly.

“Leave it! _Leave it!_” Peter wailed, pulling at Tony’s hands.

“Peter, I _can’t_ leave it or you’re going to _die!_” Tony gasped, shocked at himself for saying something so forbidden.

“Let me!” Peter broke apart into lung seizing sobs, his mentor frozen by his admission.

Tony, his own chest heaving, kept his hands on Peter’s wound, not applying any real pressure. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the old man approaching. “Stay back!” His voice was scathing. The last thing he needed right now was a fist fight.

However, the old man stopped, his hands raised placatingly. It was his turn to be on the defensive. “I can help boy.”

Tony turned his gaze away from Peter and finally took a good long look at the man. His rifle was gone, standing against the wall of the barn by the door. He had extremely crooked posture, with all of his weight shifted on one leg. His face was riddled with wrinkles, and age spots, but his eyes were what caught Tony’s attention. They were filled with such warmth, kindness, and genuine concern that Tony could hardly believe that this man had just held them at gunpoint.

Tony sat back on his heels. “Yeah. Okay. Yes. Help him.”

The old man nodded his head, and limped over. His knees creaked and popped as he lowered to the ground beside Tony and Peter. He collected Peter’s fidgeting hands and pushed them into Tony’s arms. “Keep still, yeah?”

Tony grimaced, but nodded his head. He brought Peter’s hands up and over his head to rest on the ground. He figured it’d be the best way to keep Peter secure and to ensure that his chest and lungs stayed open and expanded.

The man resumed where Tony had left off, putting direct pressure on the bleeding wound.

Peter’s sobs and whines increased, getting higher in pitch. He was absolutely terrified. He couldn’t move his arms, and he could feel Tony messing with his wound. “_Tony!_ No ropes! D-don’t tie me down, please!”

The growing delirium was starting to scare Tony. Of course, it wasn’t the kid’s fault, and Tony didn’t want him to be afraid of him, or anymore distrustful of him. “Peter, open your eyes, kiddo.”

Hearing Tony’s voice by his head, now Peter was really confused. _How are you in two places at once?_ Peter’s eyes flew open. “How are you doing that?”

“It’s okay, calm down. You aren’t tied down right now.” Tony started to rub Peter’s wrists with his thumbs, hoping that even with the fever he could distinguish his hands from frayed, burning rope. “I’m just holding you, and someone else is helping with your injury.”

“Who? Banner?” Even in pain, Peter’s demeanor relaxed slightly. The thought of someone familiar, like Bruce, taking care of him and Tony put him more at ease, regardless of the fact that they were abandoned in Switzerland with no other Avengers. Peter didn’t put that together.

“No, Pete. It’s someone else.” Tony muttered to himself. If it was making Peter feel better to think that this old man was Bruce, so be it. But his kid being unable to keep up with the fact that the old man had offered to help them, instead of shoot them, was alarming. Peter really was out of his head.

The old man tossed a rag to Tony and pointed at Peter’s face. “Name, ‘Peter’, right?” He was pretty sure that he’d picked up on the name correctly.

Tony started to wipe off the drying bile from Peter’s mouth area. He figured it was pointless to lie to the man at this point. It wasn’t like the world knew Peter Parker was Spider-Man, so telling this stranger his name wouldn’t hurt. “Yeah, Peter. And yours? What is your name?”

The man didn’t seem to be paying attention to Tony anymore, peeling the corner of the rag away to look at the wound. Just the small bit of exposure made Peter shiver and groan. The man gave a small nod. “_Je comprends._”

“What?” Tony asked.

The man directed his attention back at Tony, but didn’t answer his new question. “Jean. Jean Pruett.”

“Jean, that’s your name?” Tony wanted clarification.

Jean nodded his head, before pointing at the wound. “Sick with Cobaltite, yeah?”

This had Tony scrambling away from Peter’s head, and towards Jean. “Sick with Cobalt- what? Sick with what?”

“Cobaltite in wound.” Jean held up the rag, freshly stained with red and black goo.

_Something in his blood. That’s got to be as close to “poison” as we’re gonna get. But Cobaltite is a mineral. Is this like lead poisoning?_ As scary as it sounded, Tony was excited. Finally, they were getting somewhere, at least, now that they had somewhere to start. “You know what that stuff is? That black stuff? How do we get it out? How do we fix him?”

“Slow.” Jean couldn’t understand Tony.

“Sorry, sorry.” Tony backtracked, trying to phrase only what was necessary. “Can you take the Cobaltite,” he pointed at the rag, “out of Peter.” Tony pointed at Peter, who had just now realized that Bruce wasn’t really there.

“Mr. Stark, who is that?” But Peter went ignored.

“Yes. I can help.” Jean confirmed.

“Oh my God!” Tony hadn’t felt this relieved since he’d snapped Thanos away. “Peter! Peter, this is Jean. He knows what’s wrong! He’s going to fix you!”

“Fix me?” Peter was skeptical. Tony didn’t know what he was feeling, or what was happening to him every time he fell asleep, or blacked out. “Mr. Stark, please. It won’t w-work.”

“Shush, you’re gonna be fine.” Tony, on his new adrenaline rush, wasn’t even fazed by Peter’s doubt.

Jean pulled himself upright, and then motioned for Tony to lift Peter up.

Tony stayed on the ground, a little taken aback. “Hey! Where are you going? Help him.”

Jean mistook Tony’s instruction, not catching everything, and moved Peter’s arms back to his sides before gripping underneath his armpits.

“Stop!” Tony pushed Jean’s hands away. “Get rid of the Cobaltite. Do_ not_ touch him more than you need to.”

Jean shook his head, and pointed out of the barn door, where a bit of morning light was beginning to seep in. “Fast.”

“What, leave?”

Jean nodded his head.

“Peter is very sick. Help him now, please.” Tony spoke bitterly.

Jean shook his head again. He searched his brain for a different English word other than “fast”. He felt bad that Tony couldn’t understand him very well, but he really wanted to help the young boy. He found the word. “Hurry. Help, at house.”

“You can’t help him here?” Tony had started to sit Peter up, carefully, to not start up anymore bleeding.

Jean nodded and pulled off his fluffy, insulated outer coat. “Help at house.” He handed the coat to Tony, who pulled Peter’s arms through the sleeves.

“Is that warming you up any, Peter?” Tony didn’t really listen to Peter’s answer, if he even gave any. Instead, he pointed at Jean, and then pointed towards their makeshift water bottles.

Jean nodded, collected the bottles, and set them by his rifle at the door.

Tony got Peter completely vertical, and Jean joined Tony in carrying the boy; Jean’s gimpy leg didn’t seem to deter his efforts. Each of them had one of Peter’s arms wrapped around their shoulders. Peter tried to step with them, but mainly kept on dragging his feet, much to his aching left hip flexor’s dismay. His mind was more trained on staying awake than the pain of walking.

Before Tony could ask how far Jean’s house was from the barn, they were out the door.

A large ATV was parked right outside.

“Why do you have an ATV?” Up until this point, Tony had thought they were going to have to carry or drag Peter to Jean’s house.

Jean smiled. “Bought in Bern.”

Tony couldn’t help smiling himself as they slowly meandered towards the back of the four-wheeler. It was extremely ironic, and while he had heard the engine when Jean had first approached, he would have never expected for someone so nearby the pioneers of Hallstatt to own an ATV.

“Sit.” Jean motioned for Tony to be facing the back. “I hold Peter.”

Tony reluctantly moved out from under Peter’s arm. “I’m just gonna hand you off to Jean, Peter. Okay?”

Peter didn’t make any acknowledgement that he’d heard, but he also didn’t protest during the transition.

Tony was perched on the back of the seat before he and Jean sat Peter right in front of him. While Peter’s legs were dangling off of the end, Tony had wrapped his arms around him, and held him tight enough that he wouldn’t fall off if they were to hit a bump. He noticed that Peter’s shivers had increased, so he squeezed him impossibly tighter.

Jean had gone back inside to retrieve his rifle and the water. Then, he got on the ATV, with Tony sandwiched between him and Peter.

While it was a tight fit, Tony was on cloud nine in comparison to when he’d had to move Peter via wheelbarrow.

“No hills.” Jean moved one of his arms in a motion like waves. “Flat.”

“Okay. Excellent- er, good. Good.” Tony hadn’t given the problem of hills much thought, but flatter ground would definitely make it easier for him to keep Peter from falling off. He hoped there wouldn’t be very many divits in the ground, or bumps.

Jean started up the ATV.

The vibrations of the vehicle startled Peter. “Whoa. What’s that?”

“Our pal Jean here has an ATV.” Tony rested his chin on Peter’s shoulder. “He’s taking us to his house.”

“T-trap?” Peter couldn’t really remember much about Maxime, only that he had been with a group of men, they’d tried to kill him, and they were probably still searching for them.

One word, and Tony’s stomach twisted. He was so desperate for this Jean character to be able to save Peter, that he neglected to think that Jean may be baiting them.

Then, Tony remembered the look in Jean’s eyes when he’d offered his help, and remembered the tenderness he showed towards Peter. Tony liked to believe that he could read and understand most people pretty clearly. Growing up, he was quick to label the sugar daddies, Playboy Bunnies, trustees, teacher’s pets, hipsters, sloths, CEO’s, and kind-souls. He knew who to keep as allies and he knew who was willing to stab him in the back.

Jean would help them.

“It’s not a trap.” Tony kept his voice low enough for only Peter to hear. “We’re gonna get you some help. Just rest.”

Jean turned his head to the side. “Start now.”

“Yeah. We’re ready.” Tony subconsciously gave Peter a squeeze.

The ATV jolted as the brakes were released, and started to roll off.

“D-don’t want to sleep.” At this point, Peter was convinced that if he fell asleep, he wouldn’t wake up again.

No one can really recall when exactly they fall asleep, so Peter knows that with every slow blink, he might not _be_ anymore. When finally being forced to accept the reality and probability of death, with a mind not completely shrouded in uncontrollable agony, Peter was _horrified._ Will he even remember or know he had a life? Is there anything in the after life? Will he see Ben, and his parents? Will he go to heaven? Will he be reborn with new memories and feelings that completely shroud the memories and feelings of his past life?

“Okay, you don’t have to sleep, Pete. Just rest your eyes.” Tony had a lilt in his soft spoken voice. He was hoping that he could get Peter to fall asleep so that his body could finally get some much needed rest and strength for the coming hours.

Peter caught on quickly and wasn’t having it. He shrugged Tony’s head off of his shoulder and tried to tilt his head up to look at him. “No. D-don't do that.”

“Alright, alright. Don’t worry, that’s fine. Just breathe.” Tony pushed Peter’s head back down.

“Tony,” Peter’s voice cracked, “I don’t wanna die.” He shoved his face to the side, nestled in Tony’s collar as he started to cry.

“Oh, I know you didn’t mean it, Peter.” Tony’s tight hold switched from a safe-guard to a hug. “Shhh. Don’t cry, bud.” As he spoke, his own throat began to tighten with the threat of a sob. “And you aren’t gonna die. I promise you.” A few stinging tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. “You’ll be right as rain in no time.” A few tears fell.

Peter nodded his head, but continued crying, or at least going through the motions of crying. He had lost so many fluids he had no tears left to cry.

Tony, who had seen the paleness of Peter’s gums, had picked up on the teen’s dehydration too. “Dammit. Uh, let me get you some water. Hey Jean!”

Jean turned his head to the side.

“Water, please.” Tony made the motion of bringing a bottle to his lips.

“Yes.” Jean reached behind him to hand Tony his request. “Not drink too much.”

“He won’t.” Tony unscrewed the cap and brought it to Peter’s chapped, dry lips. “Take baby sips, alright."

Peter’s light cries completely died off as his body sensed the water and instinct took over. He opened his mouth and began to drink as slowly as his self-control would allow. His face screwed up at the bitter, metallic taste. “It t-tastes like metal.” He still continued to drink. Like before, the bottle was pulled away before he’d gotten his fill.

Tony tried to ignore Peter’s pleading eyes. “It’s mountain water, so maybe there’s something making it taste different.” Tony took a small swig, and didn’t taste anything but cold, crisp water. “Right now, I can’t have you drinking too much, okay. And Jean even said you shouldn’t, and he seems to have all of the answers right now, so he might know if water has a negative effect on this Colbalt-ish stuff, so we just have to roll with it, right?”

Peter’s response was a few wet coughs.

“Here, I’ll even help you stay awake.” Tony watched the barn fade away in the distance. “Just keep your eyes open, and tell me what you see.”

\-------------------------------------------------

  
Jean had been exposed to English when he had traveled to Bern for the first time. There were what many of the city people called “tourists” there, all of which spoke English. While at first he had found the language difficult to interpret and pronounce, he had begun to catch on fairly quickly. He could understand a lot more than he could speak.

Now that Jean could focus more on what he was hearing without having to think about what he should say in response, he couldn’t keep himself from listening to Tony Stark and his young friend, Peter. While at some points, he felt like he was invading on things that were more private to the two of them, he was also learning a lot.

Firstly, Peter was doing much worse than he’d thought. With the Cobaltite discharge in his wound, he shouldn’t be at such a stage of delirium and fever. There had to be something else ailing him, and Jean was going to find out what once they got to the house.

The boy was also desperate to stay awake, crying and working himself up over the fear of death. Iron Man was trying to help in the few ways that he could: offering reassurances and promises.

Jean had to stop listening after Tony had addressed him and asked for the water. He was sure to tell him to not let Peter drink too much. After hearing that Peter had thought the water tasted metallic, he confirmed that Peter was much worse off. He prayed that he would be able to save him before any long term effects kicked in.

_How long ago was he shot? If Maxime tried to kill them, and failed, shouldn’t he be trying to find them, and shouldn’t he be close by now? Did Iron Man fly them far enough away?_ There was so much that Jean had to ask Tony, if only they could break their language barrier.

Now, he was listening to Tony trying to keep Peter awake. It seemed to be helping the boy feel better mentally, even though his body was hurting him for it. While the field was flat, there were still a couple of bumps here and there from fat groundhogs burrowing their way to the line of trees and the river. Each time he would hit said bump, the boy would stop mumbling out an answer to whatever Tony had asked him, and would be left to gasp, cough and whimper until his pain subsided. Tony would continue to soothe him.

_ There’s something wrong here. Why would a child be with the Tony Stark? Iron Man? And he’s not even his son. Where are the other Avengers? Why was he stationed in Hallstatt in the first place?_ Jean was pulled out of his thoughts by Tony.

\-------------------------------------------------

  
“How long?”

“Three, er, four kilometers.” Jean was doing his best to translate, but he wasn’t going to conform to anything other than the metric system.

_ About two-ish miles,_ Tony converted in his head. “Hey, Peter. We’ve got a couple more miles to go and then we’ll be there. Do you mind if I talk to Jean for a bit?”

Peter made a noise in the back of his throat, his only confirmation. His eyelids were peeled back, and his eyes were glazed over. He’d put himself in a trance of being there, but not there, in order to keep himself from falling asleep.

“Atta boy, you just stay awake if you want to. I’ll be right here.” Tony patted Peter on the chest and then angled his head to the side, directing Jean. “So. You have been to Bern before?”

Jean smiled to himself. “Yes. Many times. I like city. Better than Hallstatt.”

“Oh yeah? Why is that?” Tony could think of _many_ reasons why he preferred Bern. For instance, most people in Bern didn’t want to shoot and kill him, or his kid.

As if Jean could read Tony’s mind, he answered. “Long ago, people good in Hallstatt. Not now. And, Bern better. Bern have,” he paused, preparing to articulate the word, “electricity. For all people.”

Tony perked at this. If there was electricity, he might be able to reboot F.R.I.D.A.Y, get his systems back online, and get some help. “Do you have electricity in your house?”

“Some. TV.” Jean spoke, not knowing that his answer had given Tony even more relief than when he’d offered a cure to Peter’s torment.

“TV good.” Jean thought of all of the nights he had spent watching shows and movies he had never been exposed to, and how much happiness they had given him. Sometimes, he would even watch the news. World threats would strike, and the Avengers would be all over his ancient TV’s screen. “I know Avengers.”

“Oh yeah? You’ve definitely seen Earth’s mightiest heros.” Tony couldn’t keep from rolling his eyes. The way the media would turn against his team, and then glorify them a few days later always threw him through the loop. He would prefer if they didn’t show them at all. Being a superhero wasn’t like being a celebrity, and most of them, especially after the Decimation, wanted to live a quiet life.

“You do good.” Jean complimented, and he meant it.

“Well, thank you, I guess.” There was a bit of an awkward silence before Tony pondered what Jean had said earlier. “You said that Bern gives electricity to everyone. What did you mean?”

“Electricity in Hallstatt not for all people. No TV in Hallstatt for village people. Maxime said no.” Back when he had lived in Hallstatt during Maxime’s “reign”, Jean had been surprised and irritated to learn that only certain individuals of the village would be allowed television. While many of the villagers hadn’t used television, they still complained. However, no TV soon became their lifestyle. They had to trust that Maxime would deliver any news.

“Why no TV?” Tony asked, even though he knew the answer. Maxime didn’t want anyone exposed to life outside of Hallstatt, so they would never question his authority. That sounded like another powerful world leader who was always circulating in the news._ Has anyone ever tried to leave? If they had television before, they would know the world isn’t really like the way they live? Do they really know what’s going on? Is Maxime brainwashing them, or scaring them with this Cobalt stuff?_ There was so much that Tony had to ask Jean. It was still his mission after all. “What do you know about Maxime?”

Jean clammed up, not wanting to answer.

“What do you know about Maxime?” Tony repeated himself. He didn’t want to appear intimidating, but he was also very prying.

“Here. Home.” Jean brought the ATV to a stop.

Tony did his best to turn completely around, and sure enough they were in front of an old, dusty house. If Tony knew any better, he would say it was the same as the barn, but smaller, and with some fencing in the backyard.

Tony sighed as he felt Jean slowly removing himself from the four-wheeler. Clearly, he wouldn’t be getting his answers anytime soon. He was snapped back to his true priority when Peter moaned as Jean had started to pull him from Tony’s grip, and get him to the ground.

“Hey!” Tony tightened his protective grip. “I’ve got him.”

Jean backed away and lowered his head.

“Alright, we’re here Peter. I’m gonna get you down now.” Tony scooped Peter under the arms, and slid him down the back of the ATV until he felt the boy’s feet hit the ground.

“Mr. Stark? W-where are we?” Peter’s eyes were darting towards the house, and all of the unfamiliar surroundings.

Tony hopped down beside him. “We’re at Jean’s house. He’s gonna fix you up, remember?”

“Yeah.” No, Peter didn’t remember.

Like before, Jean helped carry and lead Peter to the house.

\-------------------------------------------------

  
Once inside, all three of them were panting- Tony and Jean in fatigue, and Peter in pain.

The house was very open, with the kitchen and living area connected, and two small back rooms. One was a bedroom, and the other, a bathroom.

Jean pointed to a large, plush couch in the living area. “Down.”

“C’mon, Pete. You get to lay on something a bit softer now.” Tony carefully maneuvered Peter out of Jean’s donated coat. He then set him on the couch, pulling his legs up to rest on one end, and lowering his head to rest at the other end.

All of the pain and moving had made Peter extremely dizzy, and he saw black dots creeping at the edge of his vision. Panicking at the thought of unconsciousness, he started trying to take deep breaths, his fingers embedded in the couch cushions.

Tony asked Jean to get him a glass of water. While he was still in the room, it gave him and Peter a little more privacy. “You alright there, ‘Roos?”

“I’m g-gonna pass out.” Peter squeaked.

“You’re not gonna pass out.” Tony lifted Peter’s legs up to get the blood flowing to his head. “And if you did, I’d wake you up before you could even dream about that Michelle girl.” He sat himself on the couch, underneath Peter’s feet, and began taking off Peter’s shoes.

“MJ, Mr. Stark.” Peter was glad that Tony had brought her up. When he could wrap his head around the thought of her, it made the moment more bearable. The darkness in his vision began to recede. Whether it was from the circulation of his blood, or thinking about the girl of his literal dreams, Peter thought it was the latter.

“Hey, until she wears sparkling gloves and moonwalks down to the lab one day, she’s Michelle to me.” Tony smiled after Peter chuckled, but his smile faded as soon as he saw the sweat beading at his temples.

Jean started walking towards Tony with the glass of water.

Tony, now regretting having sat down, realized Jean would have to give Peter the water. It wasn’t a problem, as he trusted Jean enough to enter his house and take care of his kid, but he would rather do it himself. However, Jean helping Peter drink was better than Peter not getting any water at all.

“Give the water to Peter, please.” Tony pointed at the head of the couch.

Jean nodded and changed his course.

“Hey, Pete.” Tony shook Peter’s feet. “Jean’s going to give you some water. Take small sips, alright.”

Jean slipped his hand behind Peter’s head.

Peter felt his spidey-sense pick up slightly from the constant buzz that had started ever since he awoke from his last “death” cold nightmare. All his body could afford to do was tense up briefly before relaxing.

Jean stopped moving, but left his hand there, giving Peter time to recognize him. As far as he knew, he’d just startled an average teenage boy, and not a highly-sensitized enhanced individual.

“S-sorry.” Peter apologized for the involuntary act. But, if Tony could trust this man, so could he.

“It okay.” Jean raised Peter’s head. “Drink slow.”

Peter let some collect in his mouth before swallowing, and then gagged, hard. He brought a hand up to grab at Jean’s wrist, pushing the glass away, and tossed his head to the side, coughing. “Metal. Taste’s metally.”

“Take it easy, Peter.” Tony had slipped underneath Peter’s legs and crawled over to the head of the couch. He pulled Peter’s grip off of Jean. “It’s probably the poison making you taste things.” Tony didn’t know how informed Peter was on the Cobalt poisoning, but he didn’t add that detail in, in order to help him worry less.

Tony had taken the glass from Jean, and started to bring it to Peter’s lips, starting to coax him to drink.

“No, I’ll be s-sick.” Peter kept his head turned away.

“It’s not hurting you to have water. Please drink a bit more. For me.” Tony knew that that last part would break through Peter’s refusal.

Peter didn’t even take long to mull it over. Tony’s happiness and approval would always win him over. “‘Kay.”

“Thank you. Just take small sips and try not to think about it.” Tony tipped the glass.

It took many grimaces and a few pauses, but Peter managed to down half of the glass.

“Alright. You’re hydrated and ready.” Tony now turned his attention to Jean. “How do we fix him.”

\-------------------------------------------------

  
“But what does ‘extract’ mean?!” Despite his efforts to remain calm, Jean was beginning to irritate Tony. “Because I already tried it. I digged and digged,” Peter flinched on the couch, “and there’s nothing to extract! It’s a bunch of black goo.”

Jean was currently searching through his drawers, leaving Tony to try and cool Peter’s fever with a rag and bowl of ice water he’d provided. “Not goo.”

“Well then what the hell is it?! You seem to know so much!” Tony absentmindedly resoaked and wrung out the rag.

“Cobaltite discharge from machine.” Jean had started to rummage around some bottles on top of what looked like a tiny refrigerator.

“Yeah, it’s called a gun! It’s supposed to fire bullets, not ‘Cobaltite discharge’, or whatever.” Tony wasn’t putting much thought into Jean’s translations. “Are you looking for alcohol now. Because we already-”

At the word of “alcohol” Peter would have shot straight up if he could have. He settled for grabbing onto Tony’s hands. “No! _No!_ Mr. S-Stark, please! I lost control, and if I d-do it again i could h-hurt you, or-”

Tony lowered his voice, both to comfort Peter and to quiet him, in case he were to reveal any Spider-Man secrets with Jean present. “Shh. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. We’re not using alcohol. I was just frustrated. Relax, buddy.”

Tony hadn’t even considered Peter losing control, like he had the day prior. What if, when they were trying to help him, it happened again? Was Jean’s plan of action going to hurt Peter?

While Tony rubbed soothing circles on the backs of Peter’s hands, he asked Jean, “What are you going to do? How are you helping Peter?”

Jean had finally found what he was looking for, holding it up in triumph. “This help.”

Tony saw red.

Peter tried to focus his tired eyes on the object in Jean's hand. "Wh-what?"

Tony's rage quickly changed to disbelief, fear, and regret. This man couldn't help them. They had wasted time and energy for an absolute nutcase, who could offer nothing more than a soft couch, ice water that would ineffectively lower Peter’s deadly fever, and false hope.

The Cobaltite poison, if that’s even what it was, would still continue it’s track to Peter’s heart. The poison would still shut down Peter’s organs. The poison would still take the dimming light from Peter’s eyes. The poison would still take one of the few, treasured gifts that Tony had ever received.

Tony’s heart plummeted to his feet as the finality of it all took root and settled in.

Peter was going to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooooo, a cliffy!  
A lot to un-hatch here!  
So, for the language thing, I didn't translate Maxime and all of his men into French earlier in the story because I thought that that would be too much. Same with not writing Jean's perspective in French.  
For Jean's accent, I wasn't very confident in it, and all I can say is I imagined Skipper's voice from Ratatouille. :)
> 
> I edited a translation because a kind user who is actually French, and knows what they are talking about, gave me a correction.   
Translations:  
"Ne bouge pas!" is "Don't move!"  
“Les mains en l’air!” is "Hands up!/Hands in the air!"  
"Anglais?" is "English?"  
"Je comprends." is "I understand."
> 
> So much more will be explained in coming chapters, like what the "long term effects" will be and such.  
-WithACherryOnTop
> 
> Hello! I am still Just_the_Editor, but I actually had a dream a few nights ago, and I think it will make a great story. It will probably not be the first story I write though. Also, WithACherryOnTop informed me that the next chapter will be ultra whumpy! Ooh Wee!  
-Just_the_Editor


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. Super sorry that this took almost two months to post. When quarantine began, I thought that I would have ample time to write, but it turned out that that was not the case. My "days off" weren't even days off, and in the last couple of weeks, the hours have really gone up. But the chapter is here now, and I really hope that you enjoy.  
-WithACherryOnTop

Tony’s fear quickly converted back to rage. He rose, pointing his finger at Jean. “You listen, and you listen _good_ you son of a bitch!”

Peter saw Tony’s hard face and could only imagine the exchange that was about to take place. Despite the frustration he knew they both shared, he didn’t want Tony to do something he might regret. He tried to stretch his shaking arm out towards his mentor, hoping to hold him back in any way that he could. “W-wait, Mr. Stark! D-don’t!”

Tony’s attention had shifted entirely to Jean, a traitor in his eyes. He rose, pushed straight through Peter’s restraining attempts, rushed Jean, and grabbed the collar of his shirt. “Do you think this is some kind of joke?! We up and left _our_ hideout, where we were _safe_, because you promised that you could help him!” He pulled Jean even closer, practically spitting in his face. “As far as I can tell, you haven’t done him a damn thing that I couldn’t do myself! And now, you’re gonna do what? With that- with- how- what the hell is that?!”

Despite Tony’s advances, Jean didn’t seem afraid, his face passive. “Magnet.”

“A magnet.” Tony’s voice dripped with malice. “Dammit! Bullets aren’t magnetic you bastard! But, you know what, with all of this Dark Ages Hallstatt crap, they just might be! But, like I told you before, there is _no_ bullet! I’ve looked! It’s not there!” Tony was shaking with rage, nearly lifting Jean off of the ground.

Jean still managed to keep a calm demeanor, having only understood small bits of what Tony had cursed at him. He offered Tony a small, comforting smile. “It work. Cobaltite is magnetic.”

Tony went completely silent and still, his face frozen with anger, shock, and contemplation. Peter had heard Jean, and while he wasn’t sure about this magnet tactic of treatment, he knew it could be their only shot at saving him. They would need Jean’s help, as he was the only one who seemed to know what was killing him, and, despite his fury, Tony needed to understand that. “Mr. S-Stark. P-put him d-down. Let h-him g-go.” Despite the chattering of his teeth, and the weakness of his voice, Peter conveyed authority.

“I-I-” Tony sighed as he let go of Jean, his face turning away. “I’m not- I’m not- Okay.” He rubbed a hand over his face, an inadvertent attempt to get rid of the dark flush on his cheeks. All of these turns of emotion- relief, elation, deception, fury, more relief- were doing a harmful number on his blood pressure.

Jean, letting Tony get a grip on himself, gave him a light pat on the back. He then headed over to Peter, now giving the boy a soft smile. “Magnet help Peter. Magnet help all the miners.”

Tony felt one last wave of anger surge through him as more and more pieces of the puzzle were brought to light. “Right, ‘cause that’s what Hallstatt is doing right? Mining Uranium, adding a bit of Cobalt to the mixture? They’re ‘producing resources and medicine’ with a dash of nuclear weapons?” He recalled what Fury had told him prior to the mission: Hallstatt continued to mine after the conclusion of WWII, but only to manufacture resources and essentials for humanity.

Jean waved a hand disdainfully, uninterested in anymore of Tony’s accusations and comments. “Talk, later. I help Peter now.”

At the mention of Peter, all of Tony’s bitterness quickly disappeared, only to be filled with remorse. For the first time in days, he had pushed Peter to the backburner, and when the kid needed him most. “Right. Right. I’m sorry for- for-, you know. I shouldn’t have- Sorry Jean. I know it’s not your fault, but I just- I’m trying to figure all of this out, and I just-” Tony headed back over to Peter as his rant began to trail off. “But, right, we should help you out, buddy. That’s what we should do.”

Peter could tell that Tony’s stumbled apology to Jean was also directed at him. “It’s o-okay, Mr. Stark.”

“It will be, kiddo. It will be.” Tony knelt down at Peter’s head and took a deep breath, telling himself to examine each and everything Jean said and did with an open mind. After all, the old man seemed to be full of surprises. “So, it’s magnetic?”

Jean simply nodded as he kneeled at Peter’s side. “Not all of discharge magnetic. But cobaltite binds discharge, so,” Jean paused, “er, all of it come out with magnet.”

“Uh huh. Okay.” That made enough sense to Tony. “And um, you said this earlier. I’m sorry, I didn’t know what you meant, but, you said the discharge came from a machine. And you didn’t mean a gun, right?”

Jean nodded his head. “You call them reactors. The, er, nuclear reactors.”

“Wait, this stuff inside of Peter, is something that comes off of the nuclear reactors?” Tony felt another swell of dread in his stomach.

Jean nodded again. “Many times, miners might have cut, er, injury. If discharge get in cut, we use magnet to get it out.” He had even experienced it first hand, and knew the discomfort that came from the substance. All of the miners’ discomfort was what had caught Maxime’s attention. Jean’s face hardened, “Maxime,” He smashed his hands together, “made discharge into weapons.”

Tony figured out Jean’s gesture. “He pressed the Cobaltite discharge into bullets? And it what, just dissolves or something, when it gets shot inside somebody?”

“Yes, bullets. But, er, it not dissolve.” The new word felt extremely foreign on Jean’s tongue. “It breaks down. Slow. It take days. Do not worry. Peter fine.”

In Peter’s case, Tony knew that the discharge wasn’t breaking down slowly. In less than a day, Peter was on death’s door, and Tony believed he knew why. “Is that discharge radioactive?”

Peter blanched. “Oh my God.” Until this point, he had been fighting hard to pay attention, but at Tony’s question, he was suddenly filled with adrenaline and fear. Everything Jean had said applied to any normal teenage boy, but he was a totally different basketcase. “Mr. Stark, I-I, What are we-”

“Calm down. Calm down, Peter.” Tony rubbed at Peter’s shoulder. He understood his kid’s fear, but just because he was different than the average miner didn’t mean that Jean’s technique wouldn’t work. That’s at least what Tony was trying to tell himself. He also still needed to keep Peter from revealing any secrets. “Shhh, just take a breath.”

“It not radioactive.” That word was even more difficult for Jean. “Discharge not activated yet. Not get cancer.” He chuckled lightly, believing that that was the boy’s fear.

“But if the c-cobaltite and, or, uh, t-the uranium came in con-contact with the r-right isotopes, the-then-” Peter was trying to remember everything he’d discovered about his reconfigured radioactive arachno DNA. What if his body had activated the discharge? What if his own radioactive properties were making it spread faster? What if this was still going to kill-

“But, it’s not radioactive, buddy. No isotopes to worry about, okay.” Tony could see Peter’s gears turning and gave him a hard stare, both to get him to stop talking and save his strength, and to help him understand that he had everything under control, even when he didn’t. “So you’re gonna be fine.”

Peter just shook his head, choosing to believe the science in his head over Tony’s blind reassurances. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

Jean, seeing Peter’s plight, rubbed his thigh lightly. “You alright Peter.” He thought the exchange between the two had been odd, especially with Tony’s strange sternness towards the boy, but he didn’t think too much more of it. He decided to go back to helping the boy. “Light on.”

Tony had just now realized that they had been working with only the light of dawn. He reluctantly left Peter’s side as he flipped a switch by the door. A dull light flickered to life, giving the room a yellow hue. While Tony would have preferred something a bit more fluorescent, similar to an operating room, if Jean could work with it, he could too.

However, the light’s constant strobing did a number on Peter’s tearful eyes, and even worse, his pounding head. He tried to lift an uncoordinated hand to cover his eyes, but the small movement was proving difficult in his weakened state.

Tony returned to his position by Peter’s head. He grabbed the boy’s wandering hand, and covered his aching eyes himself. It was horrible to hear his fevered kid lost in his head, silently crying to Tony. “You’ll be okay Peter. I’m gonna take care of you.”

“It w-won’t work. It won’t w-work.” Peter couldn’t tell if he was speaking aloud, or just thinking in his head, but Tony’s sigh proved it was the former.

Tony glanced at the magnet in Jean’s hand. “Can we get started, please.”

Jean’s eyes narrowed, his focus completely transfixed on Peter’s abdomen. Now, finally able to see Peter clearly in the light, what he saw was puzzling. Wondering if his shadow was maybe interfering with his vision, he shifted to the side a bit. However, the squiggly black lines stayed painted on the boy’s body, and they were branching off directly from the wound. In his years in the caves, he’d never seen any miners look like this.

In all of this time at the house, Jean had started to think that Peter wasn’t as ill as he’d first presumed. He thought that maybe the boy had a low pain and sickness tolerance. But, this _was_ as bad as he’d originally thought. _“Shit.”_

Both Tony and Peter were a little taken aback by the man’s use of an English expletive. They asked in unison, “What?”

“I have not seen,” Jean gestured to all of Peter’s body, “this before. Never.”

Peter had lifted his head to see what had Jean so surprised, and sure enough, the black tendrils creeping up his body had traveled even farther in the few hours since he’d mustered up the courage to look at it. “I t-told you, Tony.” He dropped his head back. “It w-won’t-”

Tony stunted Peter’s hopelessness, all eyes on Jean. “But you can still save him, yes?”

Tony’s tone and choice of words struck a nerve in Jean. “No! Stop! Do not! I-” If he would have known the extent of Peter’s condition, he would have never promised his aid. He couldn’t bear to have the blame of another child’s death over his head.

“But we have to try, and-” Tony started.

Jean knew the details of trying. He knew what would have to be done. He knew that there _was_ still a reason to try, as long as Peter was breathing. But he couldn’t do _that_ to Peter. The boy reminded him too much of his Elliot. “No! I will not!” He threw the magnet to the ground and started to rise from his knees.

“No! Nonono! Please!” Tony gripped Jean’s arm, keeping him where he was. “He means everything to me!”

Jean furrowed his eyebrows. “Why, Stark!” _Why this boy? Why is he here with you? Why is he still alive? Why do you care? What does Iron Man have to gain by getting such a young boy involved with all of this?_ As Jean’s questions ran through his mind, he believed he was beginning to understand. He only needed Tony to confirm his suspicions that Peter was special.

“I don’t- What do you mean?! He’s my- I love him!” Tony felt tears collecting at the corner of his eyes. He spared a glance at Peter, who was fairing no better at Jean’s brash turn. “Jean, please! Stop! You’re upsetting him! I have to keep him calm, or he’ll-” Tony cut himself off.

Jean tore himself from Tony’s weakening grip. “Who_ is_ Peter?!”

“He’s- I can’t-”

“Who?”

“Jean, stop!”

_ “Who?”_

“I’m warning you.”

_ “Who?!”_

“Shut up! You don’t understand!”

The screaming matches, mixed with his crying, pain, fever, _everything,_ were beginning to push Peter over the edge. He wasn’t going to be able to take much more of this, and if this was it, he only wanted Tony, the hero he had looked up to all his life. He just wanted Tony. “Mr. Stark? P-please. Can we just g-go?”

“Who _is_ this boy?!”

The stress, lack of sleep, and Jean’s bombardment finally broke through Tony. “Spider-man! He’s Spider-man! Alright?!”

“T-Tony, no!” Despite his imminent death, Peter’s mind raced with thoughts of the tabloids, his friend’s safety, MJ, Ned, May- everyone who could be at risk when Jean went flying to every Bern reporter, and the world found out his name.

Tony didn’t care if the whole universe knew Peter’s alter ego, only that Jean would still help them. “He’s Spider-man! He’s a kid, and he’s Spider-man! He was bitten by a _radioactive_ spider, and it gave him powers! Powers like accelerated healing. But for some God-awful reason, it’s not working! He should be _fine!_ But he’s not! And I have no idea why!”

Tony glared at Jean, daring him to challenge his relationship with Peter again, but the whole room was silent. He continued. “But I look after him.” A pause. “I take care of him! And I’m gonna keep taking care of him for as long as I can! I’ll try anything! Everything! I’ll do it myself if I have to!”

At Peter’s identity reveal, Jean already had all of the information that he needed. “Tony-”

“But I _want_ your help! I do! Please, just try! Try, and I’ll try with you! Please. I just can’t lose him.” Tony’s voice lowered.

Peter’s sobs were beginning to shake the entire couch. “I don’t w-wanna be h-here. Please, T-Tony, I wanna g-go.”

As Tony began consoling Peter, explaining why they couldn’t go, Jean felt renewed by Tony’s love for Peter and willingness to persevere. “No! You not leave. It work. It _will_ work.” Whether Jean was right or not, he didn’t know, but he’d be damned if he didn’t give this a shot. Even though he couldn’t save Elliott, he could still save this boy.

“What makes you so certain? Why did you change your mind?” Tony asked.

“Spider-Man strong. Peter strong. Peter,” Jean pushed in front of Tony to Peter’s head and grabbed his face with both hands. While Peter gently shook his head to loosen Jean’s clasp, Jean tightened his grip, forcing eye contact; while he deemed the behavior a little bit rough, Tony was too shocked to stop it. “You are superhero. You get through this. I promise. But _you_ must believe. _You_ must fight! Will Spider-Man fight?”

The old man’s sudden vigor nearly knocked the tears and fear right out of Peter. He found himself nodding his head slightly in Jean’s grip. He _could_ do this. He’d fallen out of a tree, gotten shot, smacked his head into the ground a number of times, popped his hip back in place _himself,_ and survived having a knife probing around in his body, and now, he was going to battle his next villain: Cobaltite.

Tony stayed sitting back, not wanting to interrupt what seemed to be an intimate moment between Jean and Peter. Maybe this was what Peter needed- someone really rooting for him. While Tony had felt calm, collected, and encouraging when this entire mess had started, all of that had shattered after he’d had to traumatize his kid with some tweezers and a rusted old knife. Since then, all he had done was coddle and comfort Peter, and while that always amounted to something, he never gave Peter his backbone back. But Jean did.

Jean smiled at Peter and gave him a swift nod. While no one was sure of the outcome, he knew that this boy wouldn’t quit until his last breath. _Even though the condition Peter is in would kill a normal human being, maybe the radioactive powers could be giving him a leg up. Or maybe, the powers are doing the opposite, and they’re hurting him even more. Of course they’re hurting him more, they’re making the discharge spread even faster. But maybe, for the average enhanced individual, the discharge is spreading slower. How would this be affecting someone like Captain America, or Thor, or-_

Tony pulled Jean out of his thoughts. “Alright, so we can do this now.”

“Yes, yes.” Jean patted Peter on the cheek, and then took his place back at Peter’s side.

“Because this is different than with the miners, how are you going to get the discharge out?” Tony looked across Peter’s abdomen, almost as if the answer would somehow be there.

Jean took a minute to think about it. “I take magnet,” Jean placed his hand at the very top of the thick, black vein closest to Peter’s heart, causing the teen to flinch, “er, and force it,” Jean moved his hand down Peter’s stomach, stopping just short of the bullet wound, “out of injury.”

“Okay, okay. Is the magnet strong enough for that?” Tony eyed the black rectangle that was about the length of his hand.

“Yes. Very strong magnet.” Jean passed the magnet to Tony. “But, I go slowly. Have to go slow.”

Tony fingered the magnet with both hands, seeing a couple of chips at the corners.

Peter then asked what he and his mentor were both thinking. “W-will it h-hurt?”

Tony returned the magnet to Jean and swiped his hands across his face, already knowing he wouldn’t like the man’s answer.

Jean’s face saddened. “Yes. It hurt.”

While Tony had expected Peter to go into another crying fit, which there was no shame in, his kid nodded stoically and answered with an “okay”. Tony smiled and ruffled Peter’s sweaty curls. “Atta boy.” His smile dropped and he froze. That damned phrase was exactly what he’d said before retrieving the knife and butchering his kid.

Peter sensed Tony’s tenseness, and saw the flash of regret in his mentor’s eyes. “It’s o-okay, Mr. Stark. I c-can t-take it.”

“You know I wish you didn’t have to, kiddo. If I could do anything to switch places-” Tony stopped, reminding himself that Peter needed more than a shoulder to cry on or a hand to hold. Peter needed someone fighting in his corner. “I know you can take it. And not just because you’re Spider-Man, alright. You’re Peter Parker. You can beat ‘flying vulture guy’ and mad Titans, and especially, black sludge. Jean and I are gonna get this crap out of you, but you’ve also gotta fight it tooth and nail. You hear me?”

“T-tooth and n-nail.” Peter affirmed before breaking out in a short bout of coughs. “But, c-can we hurry, p-please.”

“You heard Spider-Man, Jean.” Tony locked eyes with the old man. “Let’s do this.”

\-------------------------------------------------

Tony and Jean decided it best for Jean to be at Peter’s side, using the magnet to remove the discharge, and for Tony to be at Peter’s head to keep him calm and to keep him from unintentionally lashing out. After all, Jean still didn’t know about Peter’s ability to lose control, detach from his body, and have a much darker side of him take over. Tony prayed that that had only been a one-time thing, and that it had occurred because of the Cobaltite’s reaction with the alcohol, even though that didn’t seem to make much sense, scientifically.

“I not sure which end, er,” Jean was flipping the magnet over in his hands, “north or south.”

“Do you not have one of those magnetic compasses?” Tony asked. He saw that Jean didn’t understand what he was saying, so he assumed that the old man did not. “Okay, I guess we should just start, and see which end attracts the cobaltite.”

“Okay.” Jean then nodded pointedly at Tony, who took both of Peter’s wrists gently in his hands and pressed them on Peter’s chest.

Peter and Tony had discussed the measures that Tony would have to take if the procedure began to become too painful for Peter to handle, and Peter had been compliant with everything. Tony’s hands certainly felt better than rope, or cuffs.

Peter took as deep, controlled breaths as he could as he watched Jean place the magnet on the black stripe closest to his heart. “W-whoa. Ew.” Peter’s face screwed up as he felt an uncomfortable weight in his stomach. It felt like his organs were moving around, trying to get out of the way of something.

“Does it hurt?” Tony tightened his grip on Peter as he felt the boy’s wrist tendons flex.

“Not r-really. But it’s w-weird. F-feel’s h-heavy.” Peter described.

“Okay, then maybe you’re feeling the magnet repelling the discharge. It could be the wrong pole. Try the other side of the magnet Jean.” Tony directed.

Jean rotated the magnet and placed it on the same area.

All of Peter’s muscles locked up at the dangerous feeling. “O-okay. Yeah. Th-that h-hurts. That’s i-it.” He could already hear a quiet voice in the back of his head notifying him that something was wrong, and he could feel his spidey-sense beginning to buzz. “Crap.” His voice broke.

“Okay, okay.” Tony soothed Peter. “I think you’re right about it, but Jean, try and lift the magnet up a little bit.”

When Jean slowly started to lift the magnet up, Peter’s flesh began trying to follow.

Just as Peter started to hiss through his teeth at the discomfort, Tony had Jean stop and lower the magnet, along with Peter’s skin. “Yeah, that’s definitely the right pole. Alright, let’s go Jean.”

All of the men were beginning to tremble with adrenaline, anticipation and fear. Jean placed his other hand on Peter’s abdomen, planning to keep the skin as taut as possible, and then slowly started to drag the magnet down the black vein.

Peter let out a blood curdling shriek and jerked his hands in Tony’s hold. “Stop! Stop!” He knew it was going to be painful, but he had believed that that was all it would be. However, just like when he’d had the alcohol poured in the wound, that dreadful icy cold was back, and it was pulsing throughout his entire body.

“I know, buddy, but you know we can’t stop.” Tony’s voice already sounded strained with having to refocus his efforts on keeping Peter still.

“Please! H-Help! Stop it!” Peter began sucking in his abdomen, trying to break the connection between the magnet and his body.

“Peter, quit that! Come on, _this is_ helping you.” Tony kept his voice as calm as possible. Any scolding was light, as he could only imagine the torture his kid was going through.

Jean kept a stabilizing hand on Peter’s stomach, and kept moving the magnet. He had to go agonizingly slow, millimeter by millimeter, in the efforts to remove everything. He was about a half inch down the vein, and sure enough, the black mark had disappeared from where the magnet had traveled. It was working! Jean smiled. “You alright, Peter.”

Peter’s screaming died off momentarily. Not because of Jean’s reassurances, but because his spidey-sense forced him to believe he was alone in defending himself against this threat. No Tony. No Jean. Only he, and his powers, could save him.

“There you go.” Tony mistook Peter’s pause for calmness. “Remember what I said earlier? Just breathe, buddy, and-”

Peter brought up his left leg, even though it was still healing, and painful, and nearly kneed Jean in the head. The old man stumbled backwards, the magnet dropped.

While Peter’s hands hadn’t made any attempts to move, or fight, Tony doubled his grip. _“Dammit!_ Peter, you’ve got to-, Sorry, Jean! Are you alright? He didn’t mean to- or, he just-, “ He had no explanation for Peter’s actions, other than that the boy was starting to lose control. They had only just begun, and Peter was already on his way to overpowering the both of them. He couldn’t let that happen. “Peter-”

“Tony! I can f-feel it! I’m g-gonna black o-out again!” Peter was breathing haggardly, his eyes bulging with terror.

“No, you’re not.” Tony was surprised by the confidence in his voice. He grabbed both of Peter’s wrists with one hand, and turned to help Jean back up to Peter’s side with the other. He then motioned for Jean to get on the couch. “Sit on him, if you have to.”

While Tony had lowered his voice, and only directed it at Jean, Peter’s enhanced hearing had picked it up. His spidey-sense blared _DANGER,_ and he couldn’t keep himself from growling, his voice pitched much lower than normal, _“No! No magnet!_ Try something _else!”_ He attempted to work his legs out from underneath Jean.

“There’s nothing else to try.” Tony spoke as if talking to a small child. In all honesty, Tony didn’t know if he was really talking with Peter anymore. He felt like he was speaking to the darker, primal side of Spider-Man.

Tony made a few quick observations: Peter’s eyes were narrowed, no longer wide, his teeth were bared, but not in pain, and he was breathing through his diaphragm, not heaving through his lungs. Most peculier, Tony watched Peter tap both of his palms incessantly with his middle and ring fingers, as if he was shooting webs. While the spider bite had not granted Peter the powers of producing organic webbing, the boy’s own creation had become one of his greatest defenses, and this feral side of him knew it.

Tony, keeping Peter’s wrists in his grip, moved behind the armrest of the couch. Peter glared at his every move. Tony slowly started to raise Peter’s arms up and over his head, and then rested atop them, trapping them between his chest and the armrest.

With his chest on the armrest, Tony’s face was eye-level with Peter’s, who promptly spat in his face._ “Get off me!”_

Tony felt all of Peter’s muscles clench, getting ready to throw him off the couch, or even across the room, and he knew he needed to act fast. “Mr. Parker? Look at me.” His voice was very stern, but his phrasing was very nostalgic, as Tony decided to address Peter in the same way he had when he had first met him in his tiny apartment.

Tony smiled as he saw the tell-tale switch in Peter’s behavior at his command. He had always known that Peter had viewed him as a role model, but his mentee had also viewed him as an authoritative figure. His Peter would always come back to follow his lead. While it was disheartening to see the fear, and pain back in Peter’s eyes, behind that, there was also trust again.

“Mr. Stark? H-how did you get u-up there?” Peter asked, confused. He squirmed, feeling an unfamiliar weight on his hips and thighs. “W-what?”

Tony untucked one of his hands to push Peter’s head back down before he had a chance to see Jean’s change in position. “Peter, you kind of lost it on me for a sec there.”

“Did I?” Peter swallowed down a sob. “Mr. Stark, I really c-can’t do this. I w-want to, but I j-just- I c-can’t con-control-”

“Shh. You’re doing just fine. It’s not your fault.” Tony brushed a few tears off of Peter’s temples. “I’m gonna keep you grounded, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

“I’m gonna have Jean start back up again, alright?” Peter couldn’t suppress his sob at that. “It’s okay, Pete. You know we’ve got to, and it’ll be over before you know it.” Tony spoke half-truthfully.

Jean repositioned the repossessed magnet near Peter’s sternum.

“Just a minute, Jean.” Tony held his hand up to halt him. “Peter, this isn’t going to be like at the barn. I’m going to be up here, with you, the entire time. My focus is all on you, and I only ask that you try and focus on me.”

Peter tried to muster up some determination. “I’ll t-try.”

“That’s all I’m asking for, buddy.” Tony returned his hand underneath his chest to grab on to Peter’s wrists. “Now, I want you to take deep breaths.”

While Peter’s breaths were closer to pants, and were shaky at best, they seemed to please Tony. “Okay, go Jean.”

Jean resumed where he had left off.

Peter arched his back and neck, screaming through his clenched teeth. It wasn’t just the agony of feeling a burning icicle slowly move throughout his body, but also the inner turmoil to keep himself present.

Upon the start, Tony watched Peter’s eyes slam shut as his body tried its best to escape the pain. “Try to keep your eyes on me, Peter.”

Peter opened his eyes briefly, and only to dart his head up and watch the magnet. Jean was going so slow it didn’t even look like he was moving it!

“Nononono. Peter, come on, look at me.” Tony knew he couldn’t use his hands to redirect Peter’s attention as the boy’s straining arms were beginning to increase in their pulling.

Peter shuddered as he felt the “death” cold begin to re-enter his mind. If he didn’t give in to his instincts, he would succumb to this deadly force, which he _knew_ he couldn’t wake up from again. _“S-shit.”_ He hiccupped out.

“Not worry, Peter.” Jean slowly continued tracking the magnet down Peter’s body; he was almost to the side of Peter’s navel. He kept his eyes trained away from the boy’s crumpled face. “It is working.”

While Tony had seen the small trail of black disappear from Peter’s skin, he now saw that some of the sludge was beginning to come out of the open wound. The magnet was completely flushing the poisonous discharge out of Peter’s system.

“I c-can feel i-it.” A new level of desperation creeped into Peter’s raspy voice. “T-Tony. _Tony!”_

Tony wasn’t sure if Peter was feeling the discharge, or feeling himself once again lose control. He watched Peter lift his head up to watch Jean’s hands, and when the teen dropped his head back, his eyes were once again narrowed, and a growl rumbled in his chest. He sounded like an enraged alley cat, and Tony could see that the claws were out. For the sake of everyone’s safety, he called out, “Stop, Jean! Regroup.”

Jean sighed exasperatedly. “Stark. I can not help Peter if-”

“Jean, just stop. I can’t explain-, it’s just, when he gets like this- and I can’t explain what ‘this’ is- he could hurt us. And himself. I’ve got to try and-” Tony stopped, thinking to himself. _Obviously he can’t keep his focus on me. At least not in the position he’s in. I can’t have him seeing what Jean’s doing. Or does that even matter? Does mind over matter even matter? Maybe if I-_

Jean started to continue without Tony’s permission, believing that the more prolonged this became, the worse it could become. He shifted the magnet slightly, and Peter roared.

Tony’s face blanched as Peter separated his wrists from within his grasp, grabbed his arms, and sent him completely over the couch, crashing him into Jean. Both men fell to the floor in a heap.

Out of habit, Tony got to his knees as quickly as possible, his palm, repulsorless, raised in front of him to subdue the threat. He had expected Peter to be coming after him, or most likely, Jean, but Peter was still flat on the couch.

Peter, however, was not motionless. His head was turning every which way, and his body was convulsing. He was shouting, but nothing comprehensive.

Tony’s heart fell. “Christ, what now?”

\-------------------------------------------------

  
Peter didn’t think he had ever experienced rage in his life. Even when he’d discovered the reasons for the death of his parents. Even when he’d watched his uncle be gunned down. Even when he’d learned the identity of the Vulture. The emotion was something he always felt was too extreme. With rage usually came hatred, and Peter believed he didn’t have a single hateful bone in his body.

Now, he was feeling _two_ kinds of rage, each adorned with a direction of hatred.

One part of his mind was screaming at him, and while at first, it had been a voice of warning, it was now a voice of demoralization.

_“DANGER! MOVE! GET OUT!_ were replaced with _SHOOT! ATTACK! KILL!_

The other part of his mind, the one he was clinging onto, but finding harder and harder to hear, was the side trying to keep him sane, and human. Strangely enough, these voices sounded like Tony, and May. “I’m gonna take care of you.” “Baby, it’s okay.” “Just relax, buddy.” “You know I larb you.”

Each side of himself was overloading his brain, and tearing him apart mentally. But Peter didn’t want two sides, he just wanted Peter.

_ “STOP!” _

_ \------------------------------------------------- _

_  
“STOP!”_

Peter went boneless against the couch, gasping. His arms were bent out in front of him, as if he were trying to evade from an invisible attacker. After a long pause, he spoke. “Mr. S-Stark? Where’d y-you go?”

Now that the screaming had stopped, and Peter seemed to be in a more mannered state, Tony crawled over to his side. “I’m right here, Peter. Are you okay?”

“I th-think- I don’t k-know?” Peter’s voice was laced with confusion.

“It’s okay. Jean accidentally moved the magnet, and it set you off again.” Tony knew it hadn’t been a slip of the hand by Jean's part, but he suspected that the man had already learned his lesson with a bump to the head and a few more additional bruises. “You were a bit more ferocious this time.”

“‘M sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, buddy.” Tony settled Peter’s hands back to his chest.

“I just- I d-don’t understand.” Peter’s bottom lip began to quiver. “I’ve n-never felt l-like this before. And I d-don’t mean to h-hurt-”

“Shh, kiddo. I don’t blame you one bit. We’re gonna figure it out. Maybe not right now, but we’ll get this all taken care of when we get back home, okay.” Tony settled the boy.

“Spider-Man still has fight alright.” Jean brought both heros attention back to him. He was very slow to rise, rubbing a few aches out of his arms and legs. “But I can’t help Peter, er, if he fight _too_ hard.”

A few tears began to well up. “‘M sorry, Mr. J-Jean, sir.” Peter felt horrible for having knocked Jean on the floor. Spider-Man was supposed to help people, not hurt them.

“It is okay, Peter.” Jean peeked under the couch, finding the magnet. “But, we can not keep, er, having you move.”

“I know. ‘M sorry.”

Jean spitballed an idea. “Maybe, I have some, er, rope?”

Peter and Tony both bristled at that. Peter let out a whine, thinking that that might be their only option, but Tony came to his rescue. “No, sorry, we can’t do that. It makes Peter panic, and the rope wouldn’t even hold him if he gets too worked up again.”

“Well, we must do something.” Jean let frustration creep into his voice. He certainly did not want to be thrown to the floor every couple of minutes. Peter wouldn’t get better if he got a concussion or broke his arm.

“Well, I was thinking earlier,” Tony moved back to stand behind the armrest of the couch. “I want to try something. Jean, can you help me sit him up a bit.” Jean moved to comply. “Yeah, just kind of shift his legs for me.”

Peter did his best to help as much as possible, or at least to not be a deadweight. The men were going slow enough that his bullet wound didn’t spike with pain. “Wh-what’s your p-plan, Mr. Stark?”

“I just want to try another one of my mind over matter tricks, I guess.” Tony started to place Peter’s upper back on top of the armrest of the couch.

The armrest was so wide, and broad, that Peter’s back wasn’t really bowed or arched in the slightest, and his head and neck weren’t painfully hanging off of the side. His abdomen was completely on display, and accessible to Jean. Even when Jean would have to reposition himself back on top of Peter’s legs, it wouldn’t push the teen’s hips into the couch and put any painful strain on his lower back.

Peter gazed up at Tony, trying to not let it show that he was nervous about his vulnerable position. “I don’t know a-about this, M-Mr. Stark?”

Tony spoke analytically. “I noticed that you would start to lose control whenever you would look at Jean, and I tried to tell you stop, but I can’t really do a good job of that when I’ve got to keep a hold of your hands. So,” He started to lean over Peter, keeping his weight pushed into Peter’s arms and hands over his chest, “I think I’m just gonna do my best to keep it out of your sight.”

“Oh, um. I d-don’t know.” Peter tensed at first, never being a fan of tight spaces, or feeling trapped and claustrophobic, but once the scent of Tony invaded his senses, it put him at ease. While many people would shy away or gag from the pure smell of sweat, dirt, grime, and even a little blood, Peter’s enhancements filled his nose with Tony’s real scent: motor oil, wood, a smidge of aftershave, and all of the unique fragrances that were only Tony’s.

“I’m not smothering you, right?” Tony was on the balls of his feet, making sure that all of his weight was concentrated forward, and not smashing Peter’s face with his stomach. He knew he would have one helluva backache after all of this, but if it could keep Peter calm, and safe, he would hold the position for days.

“Hm-mm.” Peter felt his own hot breath reflect back to him from Tony’s thin shirt. “I’m g-good.”

Jean placed a hand on Peter’s leg, hoping to not startle him, and silently telling him that he was about to get back on top of him.

“Let’s just try this and see what happens, right, Pete?” Tony asked.

“‘Kay.”

“Alright, Jean.” Tony looked at Jean, unable to conceal a half smile at the familiarity. Hopefully, finally, they could make some significant progress without having to contain Spider-Man, or keep themselves from falling to the floor.

Jean took a brief moment to wipe away some of the discharge that had found its way out of the wound, and he cast it to the floor. If the mess minded him, he didn’t show it. He then resumed where he’d left off, right near Peter’s navel.

With the first flick of Jean’s wrist, Tony heard Peter gulp in a huge breath of air. That was better than screaming and crying, right? Maybe the pain was beginning to lessen.

After about nearly a minute of silence, Tony noticed that Peter had begun trembling and the boy had even nudged his head against Tony’s stomach a time or two. He was probably subconsciously trying to understand and see what was happening to his body. “You’re doing great, kiddo. Don’t try and look.”

Peter’s trembling suddenly became shaking, and Tony then froze, realizing that he hadn’t felt the rise and fall of Peter’s chest underneath him for a while. Was he suffocating him? “Peter, are you breathing?!” Tony panicked. He didn’t want to spare getting up, releasing Peter, and halting they’re progress, but he also couldn’t see if Peter was conscious anymore.

Unbeknownst to Tony, Peter’s face was beginning to turn a dangerous shade of purple. If he held his breath, then maybe he could focus on something other than the pain, or the voice telling him to ram his head into Tony’s body, breaking all of his ribs and puncturing his lungs. But he couldn’t hold it any longer, and he could hear his mentor worrying over him. Peter’s chest sunk in as a blast of air escaped him. “Stop! I c-can’t do it any-anymore! Stopstopstop!”

Tony sighed in relief. “It’s okay, Peter. We’re making some good progress and it will be over soon. But you’ve gotta breathe or-”

Peter had heard enough when Tony implied that they wouldn’t be stopping. “No! No! I can f-feel it!” He sucked in another breath, holding it.

“No, Peter, breathe. You’re only making this harder on yourself, and more painful.” Tony was beginning to regret his idea. Peter would barely listen to him even when he could look at him, and now, Peter didn’t seem to be listening at all.

Jean kept steadily moving the magnet, leaving Tony with the most difficult task of comforting and coaching Peter through the pain.

“Peter!” Tony’s barked. “You need to stop this right now and breathe!” He didn’t want his kid suffocating himself.

Peter’s only response was a couple of head taps against Tony’s body.

“Oh no you don’t. Come on, Peter!” Tony pushed down on Peter’s chest with his body weight, forcing the carbon dioxide out of Peter’s lungs, and making his body involuntarily take another breath in.

Peter wasn’t happy, and couldn’t hide his frustration and pain. “Mr. Stark, stoppit!” The man had no _idea_ what he was going through, and pain management and deep breaths weren’t going to solve anything. He just wanted this all to be over. He wanted everything to stop.

Tony kept ready to push on Peter’s rib cage again, if need be, but then Peter started to wriggle side to side underneath him. It was only slowly at first, but it started to become quick and desperate. _“Dammit._ Jean, we might’ve lost him again. Be ready, he might try and throw you.” John stopped, but didn’t remove the magnet as Tony directed his attention back at his protege. “Peter! I need you to try and focus on my voice right now.”

Peter started to pull against Tony’s grip.

“Pete, please! I know you can’t really see me, but I’m right here with you. Everything’s gonna be alright, and-” Tony paused, hearing a couple of sniffles underneath him. At least it wasn’t growling. “Hey, buddy, are you still with us?”

A brief moment, and then Peter snatched his hands from Tony’s grasp.

_ “Peter!”_ Tony scrunched his eyes shut, bracing to be once again thrown over the kid’s head. He’d probably be busted through the wall this time.

In one quick motion, Peter wrapped his arms around Tony’s shoulder blades, and pulled the man flush against him. Tony’s scent completely overwhelmed his senses, and now he had something to hold onto, both figuratively and physically. Like before, he just wanted Tony.

Tony was surprised to be pulled into a bear hug, but pleasantly so. Peter was erupting with sobs and cries into his shirt, but he wasn’t fighting him. Tony’s hands were now free, and he used them to rub at Peter’s sides comfortingly. “Okay,” He drawled out, “it’s okay, Peter. Do what you gotta do. Just keep breathin’.” Tony nodded to Jean.

\-------------------------------------------------

  
The ordeal took two and a half painstaking hours.

The thickest, central line of the discharge was the most painful, but all other branches of the poison were just under that threshold, and there were so many branches.

At one point, they even had to tug Peter’s pants and boxers down a few inches, as the tendrils had begun to work their way downwards. Peter was relieved that he could hide the blush in his cheeks, but it had all only aided in his misery.

About halfway through, Peter had unexpectedly gotten sick, all over himself, Tony, and the couch. Tony kept his voice low, but inside, he was ecstatic because the vomit was warm, unlike back at the barn where it had felt like Peter had thrown up melted ice cream. The two men wiped the mess away to the best of their ability, and gave Peter a small sip of water, which he didn’t make any comment on of tasting like metal.

Peter took it all the best he could, but was disheartened and upset that he wouldn’t appear to be getting anymore breaks. Squeezing Tony close was a constant, along with a few brief begging sessions. He just needed a minute. Just one minute. That’s all he would ask for.

Peter filled the room with keens and wails.

After a while, Peter stopped vocalizing any words, giving up on any sort of reprieve. He clung to Tony, his knuckles white, and some on the brink of hyperextending themselves. He didn’t think he was digging his nails in, but even if Tony noticed, he wouldn’t have said anything.

Peter had had a false sense of relief when he had picked up the words “done” and “finished” between Tony and Jean, but Jean apparently needed to add a few finishing touches.

Peter had flinched and cried tearlessly when Jean started to dig the magnet in, all around his entire abdomen. He would start at the edges, and then work his way to the exit wound. The man used quick, but forceful strokes, and it looked like a painful deep tissue massage. No fragments of cobaltite or discharge came out of Peter’s wound, but Jean deemed it a necessary step.

Once Jean dropped the magnet to the floor and shook out his cramping hands, Peter let himself passout. He was met with zero protest from Tony, who had stopped trying to hide his own tears after only thirty minutes of the extraction.

They washed the blood, vomit, and sweat from Peter’s body and hair.

Jean offered his bedroom to Peter and Tony, to which the inventor replied with a nod and a quiet “thanks”.

After gently carrying Peter into the back room bridal style, Tony deposited Peter on the full size bed.

Peter never stirred once.

While Tony had tucked Peter into the center of the bed, Jean insisted the man rest in the bed as well. Once again, Tony simply nodded and gave a quick “thanks”.

Jean closed the dark curtains, enveloping the room into near darkness. He then exited the room, quietly closing the door.

\-------------------------------------------------

  
Tony let out the most exhausted sigh as he kicked off his shoes with his eyes closed. He nearly tripped on one shoe’s heel, a costly mistake if he managed to fall. If he fell, he probably would have just stayed on the floor and fallen asleep.

“Okay, Spider-Boy. Don’t worry about old Iron Man crawling into bed with you.” Tony felt every single one of his muscles ache as he climbed in and under the covers. His arms felt like noodles as he tried to shift Peter over. He collapsed to the side of the boy with an “oof”.

With all that he had witnessed in the last day and a half, Tony was at first surprised by how forcefully sleep was calling him, but then again, he hadn’t had any decent sleep since the plane ride.

“Just close your eyes, Pete.” Tony brushed Peter’s hair back, pleased to feel the lack of heat radiating from Peter’s forehead. An “I love you so much” went without saying. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Tony fell into a light, but comfortable sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so, a lot of times, portions of this chapter were written at 2:30am. It is probably one of the longest chapters I've written, and because it was spaced out over so much time, it might not flow as well as my other chapters, but it is what it is. I hope you are all doing well and staying safe.
> 
> And once again, disclaimer, I don't know anything about nuclear-radioactive-whatsit stuff, so don't "@" me.  
-WithACherryOnTop
> 
> So, I changed my name, and I am no longer a co-creator of this work, because I really am. . . just. . . the. . . editor of it. But, because I changed my name, that means I am soon going to be posting chapters of my own works.  
-WithoutSensation

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if there's not a lot of Peter in this chapter. This kind of had to be the "Avengers: Endgame Fix-it" part/explaining the mission in the Alps. I plan to update within the next week. Don't worry, the whump's coming. 
> 
> Also, just a late disclaimer for this chapter and several upcoming, I'M NOT A NUCLEAR ENGINEER MAJOR EITHER! I've done some research and am doing my best, but if something's wrong, please, just pretend, because that's what fiction is.


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